


Yuri!! in Omegaverse

by BarelyFunctioning



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha - Freeform, Alpha Otabek Altin, Alpha Victor Nikiforov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Coming of Age, First Time, Healthy Relationships, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-Explicit Discrimination, Omega Katsuki Yuuri, Omega Verse, Omega Yuri Plisetsky, Omegaverse, Raising Yuri Plisetsky, first heat, omega - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-03-30 18:51:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13957803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarelyFunctioning/pseuds/BarelyFunctioning
Summary: A continuation of Yuri!! on Ice set in the Omegaverse.This will mostly center around Yuuri and Viktor as they start their life together in St. Petersburg and prepare for Worlds and get used to living together as lovers, but will also follow Yuri as he enters into new phases in his life and becomes a young adult.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because the Omegaverse has no specific universal laws, I've elected to preemptively provide something of a structural guide for anyone who reads this. 
> 
>  
> 
> In this fic:
> 
> Children are medically tested around the age of ten to determine if they're an Alpha, Beta, or Omega
> 
> Everyone has the capacity to get pregnant and to impregnate 
> 
> Alphas and Betas both react to an Omega's heat, but while Betas can keep their heads just fine, Alphas usually can't (there are exceptions)
> 
> Alphas only go into a rut when exposed to an Omega’s heat
> 
> An Alpha can only bond an Omega when the Omega is in heat and only while they copulate
> 
> The pheromones of a bonded Omega can’t be perceived by anyone but their Alpha, but the Alpha can still potentially be affected by the pheromones of other Omegas
> 
> Omegas can generally expect to be lowkey discriminated against in groups predominately made of Alphas and Betas

* * *

 

 

“Well, what the hell were you expecting?” Yuri scoffed after Viktor finished regaling his latest travesty. “When you gave the pig an Eros-themed program and asked him what Eros was to him, what did he say? _Katsudon_.”

            “But why won’t he sleep with me?” Viktor whined.

            “Why don’t you go ask him instead of making me listen to your crap?!” Yuri demanded.

            “I did,” Viktor replied, unperturbed by Yuri’s predictable outburst. “He mumbled something about not being able to sleep like that and ran away.”

            “If he gave you the reason, then shut up and deal with it!”

            “But that’s how he acts when he’s hiding the _real_ reason.”

            “Vitya! Yurochka!” Yakov snapped from the other side of the rink. “Stop standing around and warm up already!”

            Yuri huffed in a disgusted way. “Gladly,” he replied, gliding away from Viktor.

            “Hmph,” Viktor grunted quietly, not moving. He folded his arms over the low wall circling the ice and rested his chin on them, pouting.

            Seeing this, Yakov took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose, before walking around the wall to Viktor’s side.

            “What inspired this round of dramatics?” he asked. “You were over the moon yesterday about your little Japanese boy finally arriving. Was his flight cancelled?”

            “No, but when he got here, he asked where his room was!” Viktor complained. “I already cleared out half my closet and dresser for him, but he wants to sleep in the guestroom! Why, Yakov, _why_?!”

            “I’m guessing it’s because he’s more sensible than you!” Yakov thundered, veins popping in his forehead. “Not that that’s saying much,” he added in a lower growl. “Newborn chicks are more sensible than you.”

            “We’re going to get married eventually anyway,” Viktor grumbled. “Is he still going to refuse to sleep with me, even then?”

            “I don’t know and I don’t care!” Yakov barked. “Get skating or go home!”

            Viktor brightened instantly. “You’re right! I should be helping Yuuri unpack! That way I can just put his clothes in my room for hi—”

            “No, you idiot!” Yakov raged. Instead of raging on, he took another deep breath and continued more quietly. “Look, I don’t think he should be living in your apartment at all, but if he’s going to, he needs his own space. You stay here, you get back in skating shape, you let him settle in at his own pace.” He hesitated for a moment before _very_ quietly asking, “Is there a lock on that door?”

            “The guestroom’s?” Viktor questioned. “No. Why would there be?”

            “Put a lock on it,” Yakov advised.

            “Why?”

            “You know why! Now start warming up!”

            Viktor whined childishly but finally pushed away from the wall. It was better than continuing _that_ avenue of conversation…not that he didn’t get where Yakov was coming from.

            On one hand, he really didn’t see any reason to put a lock on that door for Yuuri. There had been no lock on his bedroom door at his parents’ onsen and nothing happened.

            On the other hand, Viktor knew it probably would be for the best. Much as Viktor had made himself at home at Yu-topia, it _wasn’t_ his home. It was unfamiliar territory. With Yuuri in his apartment, just the two of them…it was possible that Viktor might have a harder time staying rational when Yuuri’s next heat came.

            There were Alphas out there who really couldn’t keep their heads around an Omega in heat, but Viktor had never been one of them. That said, if it was _Yuuri_ , and he’d uncharacteristically misplaced his suppressants, and the only thing between him and Viktor was an unlocked door…

            Viktor released a quiet huff in frustration and put it out of his mind.

            It was a pointless train of thought. Yuuri was the most careful person Viktor had ever met. He went so far as to keep over the counter emergency suppressants on his person at all times, just in case. The chances of Yuuri misplacing them were about as low as Yuri being in a pleasant mood for no particular reason.

***

Night had long since fallen by the time Viktor got home. When he opened the door, he was greeted by an excited Makkachin and the smell of cooking food.

            “Welcome home,” Yuuri called from the direction of the kitchen.

            It was a little thing that put a huge smile on Viktor’s face. He and Makkachin went together to join Yuuri.

            Viktor loosely placed one arm around Yuuri’s waist from behind, scratching Makkachin’s head with his other hand, and kissed his cheek. “Is this why you wanted me to let you know when I left the rink?” he asked.

            “Yeah,” Yuuri confirmed. “I just wanted to have something warm for you to eat after you got home.”

            “Is that beef stew?”

            “Nikujaga,” Yuuri corrected, “so…sort of?”

            Viktor hummed in a high pitched, excited way and tightened his arms a little.

            “I was surprised by how short the day was,” Yuuri commented. “It seemed like it was dark until almost noon and then dark again before four.”

            “The sun’s only up for about five hours a day this time of year,” Viktor said with a nod that rubbed his cheek against Yuuri’s neck. “It doesn’t really set for the whole month of June, though.” He purposefully pressed his lips to the nape of Yuuri’s neck and enjoyed the subtle tremble it sent up his spine. “Is that Nikujaga all done.”

            “It, um…yeah,” Yuuri mumbled, blushing, “but simmering for a little while wouldn’t ruin it…”

            Viktor slipped his hands under Yuuri’s shirt and smoothed them over his hips to his stomach and back down to his hips.

            Yuri turned the stove down to “low” and turned around to kiss Viktor full on the lips, wrapping his arms around Viktor’s neck. Viktor responded in kind, deepening the kiss and shoving Yuuri back against the counter, fingers digging hard into his hips.

            Makkachin’s front paws landed squarely on Viktor’s side with an indignant bark, causing him to exhale sharply and lose his balance.

            Yuuri snickered.

            “Sorry, Makkachin,” Viktor said, rubbing his side. “We were leaving you out, huh?” He knelt down to scratch Makkachin’s ears at eyelevel. “How about we get your nails clipped this weekend. Sound good?”

            Makkachin just licked his face and wagged his tail.

            Still chuckling, Yuuri turned back around and took a couple bowls out of the cupboard. “Come on, let’s eat.”

            Viktor gave him a disappointed look but didn’t protest. Besides, as he watched Yuuri ladle the Nikujaga into the bowls, he found he really wanted to eat it. It smelled good. Tasted good, too.

            As they ate, sitting across from each other at the small kitchen table, Viktor told Yuuri about the routine he was already half finished choreographing for next season. Yuuri told Viktor that he was completely done unpacking—in the guestroom—and that he was surprised by how much of a neighborhood celebrity Makkachin was. When Yuuri took him out on a walk, no less than fifty people came to pet him, greeted him by name, and gave him treats.

            “One of the older ladies actually thought I’d dognapped him,” Yuuri added with an awkward laugh. “She was kind of scary.”

            Viktor laughed with him. “What did you do?”

            “Her grandkid recognized me and showed her a picture of us from the Expedition,” Yuuri said, blushing a little. “I think I really need to put more effort into learning Russian.”

            Viktor hummed agreeably. “English will only get you so far and it’s very unlikely you’ll find someone who speaks Japanese well enough to hold a conversation with you.”

            “Mhmm,” Yuuri grunted through a mouthful of food, nodding.

            “Well, you’ll pick it up fast enough at the rink,” Viktor said easily. “Mila and Georgi would have fun helping you.”

            “Uh,” Yuuri breathed trying to place faces to the names. “Mila was…that red-haired girl who likes to tease Yurio, right?”

            “Right.”

            “And Georgi…?”

            Viktor laughed. “You don’t remember him, huh? He’d be hurt. He was in the Cup of China.”

            Yuuri still couldn’t place a face to the name, but he could look the guy up later.

            “Georgi’s ex-girlfriend is an Omega,” Viktor added as a second thought. “She still practices at our rink on his off days. I’m sure she’d be happy to give you her doctor’s information, if you need it.”

            “Ah, yeah, that would be practical,” Yuuri agreed. He’d tried to find an Omegacologist anywhere in or near St. Petersburg, but couldn’t navigate the Russian websites, even translated. “What about Yurio’s doctor? Does he see the same one?”

            Viktor shrugged. “He probably will after his first heat happens.” He tilted his head at the shocked look Yuuri gave him. “What? Do Omegas see Omegacologists _before_ their first heat in Japan?”

            “Well, no,” Yuuri said slowly, “but…Yurio hasn’t had his first heat yet?” Viktor shook his head. “He’s almost sixteen.”

            “I guess that is pretty old for puberty to set in, huh?” Viktor agreed, never really having thought of it before. “Maybe it’s because he’s so skinny. I’d be surprised if he weighed much more than forty-five kilos.”

            Yuuri hummed hesitantly. It was true, if an Omega was underweight for their frame, there was a high chance it would mess with their heat cycle.

            “How old were you?”

            “Hmm?”

            “How old were you when you had your first heat?”

            Yuuri’s entire face turned a few shades pinker and he started shoveling food into his mouth.

            Viktor smiled, amused. “Come on, how is that something to be embarrassed about?”

            “I was twelve,” Yuuri mumbled.

            “Oh, that’s young,” Viktor noted benignly, “and yet you’re a late-bloomer for everything else.”

            Yuuri didn’t respond and the blush in his cheeks didn’t fade. Viktor looked at him in a soft, steamy way and ran the tip if his toe up Yuuri’s calf, pleased by how much redder his face got.

            He was less pleased when Yuuri stood abruptly and stuttered something about getting Viktor a second helping. Yuuri knew how much Viktor usually ate, so assuming he’d still be hungry was very reasonable, but Viktor had already eaten an early dinner with Yuri before coming home.

            Viktor got up and followed Yuuri to the kitchen. Yuuri didn’t seem very surprised by Viktor’s hands appearing on the counter from behind, caging him there. He shakily put Viktor’s bowl down and Viktor brushed his lips up Yuuri’s ear, earning him a quiet gasp and subtle shiver.

            “What are you being so jumpy about, Yuuri?” Viktor asked, voice soft and low and sensual, lips still just barely touching Yuuri’s ear. “Are you afraid?”

            Yuuri shook his head.

            “You know I won’t do anything you’re not okay with, right?”

            Yuuri nodded.

            “Yet you’re still so anxious. Why is that, Yuuri? I need you to tell me.”

            Yuuri remained silent, standing stiffly, hands shaking.

            Viktor sensed rapidly spiraling panic. Whatever was going through Yuuri’s head, he didn’t know how to communicate it to Viktor, which meant he was thinking too much again, which meant he was getting flustered, which prevented him from figuring out which words to use, and that pattern would continue to repeat unless Viktor disrupted it.

            With that in mind, Viktor quickly wrapped his arms tight around Yuuri and hauled him out of the kitchen.

            “Viktor!” Yuuri screeched, startled by the sudden movement.

            “Let’s relax a little,” Viktor suggested, heading straight for his bedroom.

            “Hey, no, wait!” Yuuri protested.

            Viktor ignored him, electing instead to throw him onto the bed—not something he’d done since he tried to make Yuuri take a nap before the free skate at the Cup of China.

            Before Yuuri could even get his bearings, Viktor was on him, one leg between his, elbows on either side of Yuuri’s shoulders, propping him up and letting him lace his fingers through Yuuri’s hair. Yuuri just stared up at Viktor with wide, waiting eyes.

            He wasn’t scared…but he didn’t look excited, either.

            “This isn’t so bad, is it?” Viktor prompted.

            Yuuri lowered his eyes and his brow furrowed. “It’s not like I don’t like it or don’t want to…”

            “I know,” Viktor replied jovially, earning him a scowl. “Really, what are you nervous about? Is it because you’re a virgin? Sex is like skating, you know? Lots of people think it’s scary at first, but before you know it, it’s about as big a deal as breathing.”

            Yuuri’s scowl turned downright stony, letting Viktor know that the night was not going to go how he’d hoped.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

 

 

Viktor glared sulkily at nothing in particular while Georgi and a few of the other skaters close to their age laughed their heads off at him.

            They were in the locker room, taking a break, and Viktor had just finished telling them why he’d been pouting all day and why Yuuri was ignoring him.

            “I knew you were about as insensitive as it could get, but really?” Georgi snickered.

            “I don’t want to hear that from someone whose lovers always break up with him for being so clingy,” Viktor retorted pleasantly, putting a dramatically wounded look on Georgi’s face and creating another ripple of laughter from the other skaters.

            “Seriously, though,” one of them said, “I’m amazed he didn’t break up with you right then and there.”

            “Why?” Viktor demanded, feigning offence. Messing around with his rink mates was a wonderful way to destress, even if they were taking shots at him. He also genuinely had no idea what he’d done to deserve the silent treatment from his fiancé.

            One of the taller skaters grabbed a smaller woman by the waist and dipped her low, like the protagonist of an old movie about to go in for a theatrical kiss.

            “My love,” he said dramatically, “I know you’ve never done this before, but don’t mind the fact that everyone knows _I’ve_ done this with lots of people. There’s no reason whatsoever for you to be terrified for not knowing what to do or what to expect, and why would you even worry about not knowing what _I_ expect or if _I’ll_ be disappointed by your sheer lack of experience?”

            “Oh, of course,” the little woman replied, sweeping her arm over her head in a fainting motion. “Your reminding me that you have an exponential amount of experience and then telling me it’s no big deal at all is the perfect way to ease my anxiety over the prospect of sharing my body with someone for the first time in all my twenty-four years of life!”

            “And surely we don’t need to talk about my blatant disregard for how obviously uncomfortable you are with this level of intimacy! You love me, so if I’m okay with it, you should be too!”

            “And of course, I needn’t spare a thought to how much it might hurt and whether or not I’ll even be able to skate the next day!”

            They nearly collapsed from laughing so hard at their own charade and Georgi appeared to be in actual pain, doubled over with his arms wrapped around his rib cage.

            “Okay, you made your point,” Viktor said, now actually getting a little annoyed, but their mocking was useful. He hadn’t thought about any of that, but Yuuri probably thought about all of it.

            Mila poked her head in, then, looking at them curiously. “What’s so funny.”

            “Viktor’s having trouble seducing his fiancé,” Georgi explained, still a little breathless but sitting up properly again.

            “Oh, that makes sense,” Mila said impassively, leaning against the doorframe.

            Everyone gave her the same confused look.

            “I’ve been seducing people my entire career,” Viktor informed her.

            Mila snorted delicately. “Sure, but that’s just how people react to you. Well, until they find out how infuriating you actually are.” Georgi and the others snickered. “What I mean is, you’ve never had a partner who wasn’t ready to rip your clothes off whenever they got the chance, right? So you’ve never had to learn how to comfort a nervous partner.”

            Viktor hummed thoughtfully. She had a point. People had started throwing themselves at him even before his senior debut. They were all people who knew what they wanted and weren’t shy about going after it. All Viktor had to do was follow the flow of their dance, if he felt like dancing with them.

            He’d figured that night at last season’s GPF would be the same. When Yuuri didn’t lead him off to his hotel room after that dance off, Viktor had known the faint sting of disappointment for the first time in his sexually active life.

            “Have you not?” Georgi asked after Viktor’s silence stretched beyond five seconds, somewhat disbelieving.

            Viktor shook his head.

            “Looks like there’s some downsides to being Mr. Popular, huh?” Mila said.

            They all laughed at him some more.

***

“What the hell are they even howling about in there?” Yuri grumbled, glaring at the locker room from which raucous laughter could faintly be heard.

            “Sounds like it must be pretty funny,” Yuuri commented blandly. He noted that Viktor’s voice wasn’t mixed in with the laughter, which was somehow disconcerting.

            Yuri shot Yuuri a glare over his shoulder. They were helping each other stretch, cooling down after a long day of practice. Yuuri was behind Yuri, lightly pressing his back forward.

            “You got silver at the Japanese Nationals,” Yuri spat, making Yuuri stiffen instantly. “What the hell is that, pig?”

            Yuuri just laughed quietly and nervously, unwilling to admit that flashbacks to Nationals the previous season had him a nervous wreck by the time he got out onto the ice. Viktor had tried to distract him with kisses and talking about how much he’ll like St. Petersburg, but it really hadn’t helped at all.

            “I really don’t want to talk about it,” he said meekly.

            “I bet you don’t,” Yuri quipped viciously. “Barely qualifying for Worlds… You won’t be losing by a hair this time. I’ll tear you apart.”

            “Uh huh,” Yuuri replied, too used to Yuri’s hissing to mind it.

            “And what the hell is going on with you and Viktor, huh?” Yuri asked. “I had to listen to him bitch and moan all day yesterday and now—ugh, you two are just infuriating.”

            “What was he complaining about yesterday?” Yuuri asked curiously.

            “The fact that you won’t fucking sleep with him,” Yuri snapped. “Not that I even want to think about your disgusting relationship crap.”

            And he didn’t. But the tension between Yuuri and Viktor had been suffocating for everyone all day long.

            “Sorry,” Yuuri apologized with an awkward smile. “We just…I overreacted to something he said last night. I should know by now how to deal with Viktor’s brand of thoughtlessness.”

            Yuri snorted with a scathing sort of humor. “Hey, Yakov!” he called.

            Yakov, who was talking to someone on the phone, shot him a glare but obediently came over to them. Yuuri stopped pushing on Yuri, going rigid, not knowing what was about to happen.

            “Get a load of this,” Yuri chortled. “Katsudon here thinks he should ‘know how to deal with Viktor’s brand of thoughtlessness’ after knowing him all of nine months!”

            Yakov laughed loudly and shortly. “Waste of effort, boy. After more than ten years, _I_ still don’t know how to manage that!”

            With that, he walked away again and returned to his phone conversation.

            “What thoughtless thing did he say?” Yuri asked, turning so he could start helping Yuuri stretch.

            Now mildly irritated, Yuuri just muttered, “It’s complicated.”

            “Sure,” Yuri replied. “Is it something I can make fun of him for later?”

            Yuuri exhaled sharply, surprised by the force with which Yuri pushed him forward. “That…hurts…” he complained, voice strained.

            Yuri rolled his eyes but let up on his pressure a bit. “Come on, tell me.”

            Yuuri also rolled his eyes. “Yurio, have you ever had a significant other?”

            “What?” Yuri scoffed. “Hell no. No way I’m wasting my time on that crap.”

            “Well, it’s a relationship thing,” Yuuri said. “Sorry you had to deal with some of the backlash. I’ll try to talk to him about it when we get home.” He glanced at Yuri and was thankful to see that he looked bored with the topic. “By the way…where do you live?”

            “Ha?” Yuri grunted. “Why do you care? You can’t crash at my place whenever you fight with Viktor.”

            “Um, that wasn’t on my mind…”

            Yuri grunted. “I guess I live with Lilia, Yakov’s ex-wife.”

            Yuuri looked up at him questioningly. “You guess?”

            He felt like he’d heard that before, though…something about the woman constantly yelling at him…

            “I moved in with her when she started co-coaching me,” Yuri explained, and then grunted in irritation. “She’s _still_ giving me shit for my Exhibition skate.”

            Privately, Yuuri didn’t blame her. That routine wasn’t one any fifteen-year-old skater should do, and especially not in that outfit. It was like Yuri wanted to do his own grungy version of Eros. How had he talked that Otabek boy into removing one of his gloves with his teeth?

            Yuuri knew better than to comment on it, though, and it didn’t really matter after the fact, so he just asked, “Is it just the two of you?”

            “Yakov’s there most of the time, too,” Yuri said. “I’ll probably go back to my old apartment after this season is over, though.” His eyes narrowed. “The hell are you looking at me like that for?”

            “You don’t have to worry about him.”

            Yuuri and Yuri both jumped a little, not having noticed Yakov saunter back over to them, finished with his conversation.

            “Worry?” Yuri questioned, apparently undecided as to whether he was offended or not.

            “The entire building is for unbonded Omegas only,” Yakov continued, “and it’s secure. I can set up a meeting with the building manager if you ever get tired of Vitya.”

            “Oh, um…I do want to live with him…” Yuuri replied with an awkward smile.

            “Hey, I can take care of myself!” Yuri spat, finally catching on. “I don’t need some special security! I only lived there because my grandpa wanted me to!”

            He hissed something in Russian, shoved Yuuri harshly, and stormed off. Yakov shouted after him, also in Russian, leaving Yuuri to simply watch them go. He’d expected Yakov’s rink to be kind of intense, but he had not been mentally prepared for the sheer amount of shouting and fighting that went on between Yakov and the skaters. Sure, it was mostly Yuri he fought with, but _everyone_ got yelled at.

            Yuri made a mental note to thank Celestino for being a stable and reasonable human being the next time they saw each other.

            “Yuuri.”

            Yuuri tilted his head back, lightly bumping Viktor’s thigh. Viktor was looking down at him with a smile that both soothed and infuriated Yuuri.

            “Done stretching?”

            “Yeah.”

            Not that he’d stretched much. He would do more at home.

            “Let’s get going, then. Makkachin is waiting for us.”

            “Yeah.”

            Yuuri quickly collected his things and walked with Viktor out into the lobby. By the door, Viktor clicked a button on his keys to remotely start the car. They’d let it warm up for about ten minutes before leaving the building.

            Viktor hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms around Yuuri. Yuuri didn’t hug him back, but did lean into him a little, letting Viktor know he was still kind of upset but didn’t want to keep fighting.

            “Sorry,” Viktor murmured. “I was being insensitive to you last night. I’m really not all that experienced with this myself.”

            “Just experienced enough for it to be as big a deal as breathing,” Yuuri grumbled.

            Viktor tightened his grip. “I’m not experienced with love. I’ve only come to know that since I met you. It might take some practice, but I’ll figure out _how_ to love you whatever way you need me to.”

            Yuuri relaxed more into Viktor’s hold and loosely wrapped his arms around him, as well.

            “It’s not that hard,” he murmured. “Just pay attention to me. You’ll figure it out.”

            Viktor giggled and nuzzled his face in Yuuri’s hair and started planting light kisses across his cheek and jawline.

            “You two make me want to puke!”

            Yuuri was startled and gave Yuri a petrified look, embarrassed to have been caught in such an intimate moment, but Viktor laughed it off easily.

            “You want a hug, too, Yurio?” he offered.

            “Touch me and you’ll be walking out of here with less hair than Yakov!”

            “Guess you don’t need a ride home, then,” Viktor commented.

            “I’m going home with Yakov, idiot,” Yuri spat.

            “Oh really?” Viktor questioned, genuinely surprised. “But isn’t your apartment on the opposite side of town?”

            “He said he’s been staying with Coach Yakov’s ex-wife,” Yuuri muttered. “You didn’t know?”

            “What? Nobody told me!” Viktor complained.

            “That’s because it’s none of your fucking business!”

            “Yuri!”

            Again, Yuuri was the only one startled.

            “Why are you always yelling?!” Yakov demanded, stomping toward them.

            “Because someone’s always pissing me off!”

            They continued on like that in Russian. Whatever they were saying evidently amused Viktor. He chuckled a couple times and started laughing heartily at something Yuri shouted, which turned Yakov’s face an alarming shade of red.

            They stormed out together after a couple more minutes, both grumbling under their breath.

            “I think I understand now where Yurio got his attitude from,” Yuuri commented.

            “Well it sure wasn’t from his grandpa,” Viktor replied. “Come on, let’s go home.”


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

 

 

Over the next couple weeks, Yuuri got used to Yakov’s rink. Half the time, Viktor was preparing him for Continents and Worlds. The other half of the time, Viktor was preparing himself for next season and Yuuri was doing off-ice exercises with Yuri. Lilia wasn’t particularly impressed with him but seemed to see something worth polishing in him.

            Yakov spent a few days being irritated by this and argued with her a lot. Yuri eventually told Yuuri that he overheard Yakov telling Lilia she spoils Viktor too much, like grandparents talking about their grandchild.

            It was somehow very easy for Yuuri to start thinking of Yakov’s shouting as a natural thing to hear, similar to how it only took a couple days in Hasetsu for Yuuri to think of Yuri’s general viciousness as the hissing of an exceedingly talented kitten.

            The other skaters had taken to calling Yuuri “Katsudon” after hearing Yuri scream it whenever he wanted Yuuri’s attention. It took Yuuri a little while to remember all their names and figure out their secondary genders. Mila was the only Alpha aside from Viktor and Yakov, there was one Omega other than Yuri, and the rest were Betas. Yuuri had never really had much interest in getting friendly with rink mates just for propriety’s sake, but he could tell it mattered to Viktor. He was right when he said that Mila and Georgi would enjoy helping him learn Russian, and about Georgi being upset when Yuuri admitted he didn’t remember him.

            “Well of course not,” Mila had said, laughing as she pulled out her phone. “No one would recognize you without that ridiculous makeup.”

            She showed Yuuri a picture of Georgi from the Cup of China, but he still couldn’t remember him or the program he’d skated.

            Viktor was able to get the information about the Omegacologist from Georgi’s ex-girlfriend, the other Omega, and told them that all the Omegacologists in the city could now be found in the same Omega Health Center. This was a bit of a strange concept to Yuuri. Both in Japan and in America, his Omegacologists practiced out of General Hospitals.

            He tried to schedule an introduction with whichever doctor had the earliest opening, but apparently no one there could speak English well enough to understand him. Viktor needed to make the appointment for him and, obviously, went with him for that appointment.

            The Omega Health Center was a cozy, unassuming building thirty minutes away from Viktor’s and Yuuri’s apartment. They’d both been in very pleasant moods when they arrived, but by the time they were walking out, Yuuri was mildly irritated and Viktor’s brow was set in a stony glower.

            Dr. Ivanov agreed to continue prescribing Yuuri the same suppressants he was accustomed to and set up another appointment for the standard physical exam and blood tests—something Omegas just had to go through with new doctors—but the guy made it pretty obvious that he thought it was very strange. He kept glancing between the two of them and asking invasive questions about their relationship and finally muttered something near the end of the appointment that put that dark look on Viktor’s face.

            As they left, Yuuri asked what Dr. Ivanov had said.

            Reluctantly, Viktor relayed, “He asked why I don’t just bond you now and save some suppressants from being wasted.”

            Yuuri gave him an indignant look as if to ask if he was kidding.

            That was a decision as lifechanging as children—not one that any responsible Alpha or Omega made lightly.

            What Dr. Ivanov suggested was a backward way of thinking that wasn’t often found in first-world countries anymore. Sure, exclusive Alphas and Omegas usually did _bond_ , but it wasn’t for everyone and the doctor had no place suggesting Viktor just should _do it_ , like he was the only one with a say in the matter.

            “What was it you said to him?” Yuuri asked slowly.

            “That we hadn’t decided yet if it was right for us,” Viktor answered, “and either way, you’d still need suppressants for the sake of your career.”

            And then Dr. Ivanov had given them each another strange look, shrugged his shoulders, and sent them out to make the next appointment with the receptionist.

            “I wonder if that attitude is the reason he was the only doctor not booked until May,” Yuuri commented.

            “We can try to get you squeezed in with a different doctor,” Viktor offered. “Perhaps one who’s an Omega themselves, or at least not such an old-minded Beta.”

            “It’s okay,” Yuuri muttered. “I won’t have to see him much after the exam—maybe once a year to renew the prescription.”

            Viktor glanced at Yuuri doubtfully but didn’t press the subject. He didn’t believe in putting up with offensive people, even if they were the most readily available Omegacologist in St. Petersburg, but they really didn’t have much choice at the moment. Yuuri’s next heat would come around the end of January, and he needed his prescription suppressants beforehand.

            As long as Dr. Ivanov didn’t try to push his opinions on Yuuri, he supposed it really didn’t matter.

            “Should we get something for lunch before we go home?”

            Yuuri nodded. “We need groceries, too. Is there a place you like close to the market?”

            Viktor hummed lightly. “There’s a place Yurio used to have me take him to after practice most days. They make good blinis.”

            “Blinis?”

            “You’ll like them,” Viktor promised, in a good mood again. “They’re like pancakes that you can stuff with just about anything you want.”

            “Sounds good,” Yuuri agreed.

            The place Viktor took him to was a nice, casual café. He ordered for both of them after reading the options to Yuuri and they sat down to eat by the glass outer wall, watching people pass on the streets, chatting about nothing in particular until they heard a very familiar angry voice from the entrance.

            Yuuri and Viktor—and most of the people in the restaurant—craned their necks to see who Yuri was yelling at. Neither of them recognized the man or woman who had apparently incurred his ire.

            Yuuri didn’t understand what Yuri was yelling, but it looked like the man and woman both thought it was pretty funny.

            Viktor got up and Yuuri followed him without hesitation. He didn’t know what was going on, but he could still hold Yuri back while Viktor smoothed the situation over, should that be necessary.

            “Yurio,” Viktor called genially as he approached.

            Yuri looked at him like he was a bug persistently buzzing around his head.

            “Who are you picking a fight with now?”

            “I’m not!” Yuri shouted at him. “This asshole and her bitch are the ones picking a fight with me!”

            The woman muttered something Russian to the man, to which he responded with a murmur and a nod, resulting in a smile spreading across the woman’s face that Yuuri didn’t like, mostly because their eyes were on Viktor now.

            They started talking to him, too, now ignoring Yuri and seeming to not notice Yuuri at all.

            “Yurio,” Yuuri said quietly, “did you just get here?”

            “Yeah,” Yuri grunted, “and I already want to fucking leave. I don’t even feel like eating anymore.”

            “Viktor said he used to bring you here a lot after practice,” Yuuri said. “Did you just leave the rink?”

            “…Yeah.”

            “Then you should eat something. How about you join us?”

            Yuri shot Yuuri a disgruntled glare but walked up to the counter, placed an order, and followed Yuuri to the table. Yuuri wanted to ask what had happened, but Yuri was slouching low in his chair, hood pulled fully over his head, glaring daggers out the window. He was obviously in the mood to both bark and bite, so the smart thing to do would be to _not_ ask questions.

            Viktor joined them at the same time the waitress brought Yuri’s blini to him. He waited until she left to lightly say, “Well, I hope I never have to talk to _her_ again.”

            “The fuck is that asshole’s problem,” Yuri grumbled before taking a large, messy bite of his blini.

            “No idea,” Viktor replied.

            “Um…” Yuuri said uncertainly.

            “Let’s just say she’s worse than Dr. Ivanov,” Viktor told him.

            “I swear,” Yuri seethed, “the next person who asks me if I’ve fucked you or Otabek or fucking _JJ_ of all fucking Alphas…” But instead of finishing his threat, he stuffed his mouth with another too-big chunk of blini.

            Yuuri glared down at his own half-eaten blini, no longer in the mood to eat either. One of the first things he’d learned after entering the world of professional figure skating was that he’d have to deal with people assuming he slept around.

            Professional sports used to be dominated by Alpha athletes, because Alphas were _obviously_ the best at everything. Betas were often dismissed without being given the time of day, because _obviously_ it takes one hell of a Beta to keep up with even the weakest Alpha. Omegas used to not be allowed to participate at all, because _obviously_ Omegas either slept with every Alpha athlete they met or were just looking to bond with a famous Alpha.

            The rules changed only a few decades ago and ever since, Omegas had to learn to deal with the people who assumed they were a slut or a gold-digger or both.

            The crude questions were mostly a joke these days, sure, but Yuuri had never thought it was amusing. This season had been the worst for him in that regard, too. No one asked him which Alpha he currently had his eye on. What they all wanted to know now were explicit details about how Viktor was in bed. By the Cup of China, he’d grown tired of failing to convince people they weren’t having sex and just refused to acknowledge the questions anymore.

            Yuuri was surprised people were already harassing Yuri like that, though. It’d started for him when he was eighteen. Who in their right mind thought it was funny to randomly ask a fifteen-year-old about their sex life? Suggest that that fifteen-year-old had engaged in any kind of intimate relations with their nearly twenty-eight-year-old rink mate?

            It was sick, yet people everywhere thought it was a joke.

            “I fucking hate people,” Yuri grumbled through his mouthful of blini. “Who the hell is ‘Dr. Ivanov’?”

            “Yuuri’s new Omegacologist,” Viktor said, and didn’t elaborate.

            Glad for the change of topic, Yuuri asked, “Have you thought about seeing one?”

            “I don’t need to,” Yuri dismissed. “That shit’s for _after_ the first heat.”

            “Technically, but it wouldn’t hurt to start seeing one now,” Yuuri encouraged, and then recanted, “er, to make an appointment to start seeing one.”

            “He’s right,” Viktor agreed. “All the good ones are booked until May. For all you know, your first heat will come before that.”

            “Are you my parents now or something?” Yuri snapped.

            Viktor already had his phone out, though, and to his ear.

            “Lilia!” he greeted warmly after a few seconds.

            Yuuri didn’t need to know Russian to know Viktor was talking her into making an appointment for Yuri, whose expression was quickly twisting from irritated to furious.

            By the time the three of them left the café, Yuuri was quite sure he’d never be able to show his face there again—not after how much Yuri scream possible curse words at Viktor.

            Yuuri and Viktor parted with Yuri at the bus stop—because he refused to get into Viktor’s car so they could drive him to Lilia’s house—and continued on as they initially planned. They breezed through the market, picked Makkachin up from his dog-sitter, and spent a quiet evening inside, mostly going over Russian terms and phrases.

            “Say, Viktor…”

            “Hmm?”

            They were at this point settled on the couch, Viktor leaning back against Yuuri, head on his chest. Makkachin was sprawled out between Viktor’s legs, enjoying pets and scratches from both of them.

            “Is there anything you want to do tomorrow?” Yuuri asked.

            “Tomorrow?” Viktor questioned, and then remembered, “Oh, right, it’s my birthday. You’ve already given me something lovely for my birthday,” he reminded Yuuri, holding up his right hand right where his ring would catch the soft lamp light and gleam.

            “Yeah, but…maybe I could take you out to your favorite restaurant,” Yuuri suggested, “or make you something Japanese if you want. You haven’t had katsudon in a while.”

            Viktor scratched Makkachin contemplatively. “There _is_ something that I’d like…”

            He could almost smell Yuuri brighten up at the concise answer.

            “What is it?” he prompted.

            “Sleep with me tonight,” Viktor requested, unsurprised to feel Yuuri stiffen. “I won’t try to touch you if you’re still not ready. I just want your face to be the first thing I see when I open my eyes in the morning.”

            A couple very long, silent seconds passed before Yuuri mumbled, “Okay.”

            Viktor abruptly leaned forward a little so he could look excitedly at Yuuri over his shoulder. “Really?!”

            “Yeah,” Yuuri said, looking about as nervous as he had the first time Viktor touched his hand.

            Viktor was ecstatic to the point that Yuuri almost felt bad for being so full of anxiety over the matter.

            And he was definitely very anxious.

            Viktor hadn’t tried to pull him into his bedroom once since that night a couple weeks ago. He’d been making efforts to figure out where Yuuri’s boundaries lay and how flexible each of them were. It vaguely irritated Yuuri that Viktor obviously just didn’t _understand_ having boundaries, but that lack of understanding also made him appreciate those efforts all the more.

            And true to his word, when they did finally settle into Viktor’s unnecessarily large, pleasantly firm bed, he stayed on one side, Yuuri stayed on the other, and Makkachin laid down between them. It was ridiculous, how happy Viktor looked just to be sharing sheets with Yuuri.

            Yuuri didn’t like to think of anything in terms of “Alpha” or “Omega,” but he knew how incredibly rare it was to have an Alpha like Viktor. Their elevated testosterone levels generally gave them sex-drives that Betas couldn’t keep up with and Omegas could only match when in heat. Yuuri was ninety-nine percent certain Viktor hadn’t so much as kissed anyone else since he first came to Hasetsu—at least nine months of no sexual contact beyond kissing.

            Being the only human being to know Viktor Nikiforov’s love was already a pleasure beyond Yuuri’s wildest dreams. Surely there was no other Omega in the world who could say their Alpha fiancé loved them so unconditionally that they were _happy_ to literally just sleep together. That was too much.

            Maybe it was because of the day’s drama, but as those thoughts consciously waltzed through Yuuri’s mind, something warm settled in his chest and stomach and kept him awake well into the night.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

 

 

 

Yuuri felt strangely constricted. Strangely, pleasantly constricted. Constricted like he was snuggly surrounded by the warm essence of security and comfort.

            Upon opening his eyes, Yuuri realized it was actually just Viktor, holding him from behind and half laying on top of him. Sometime in the night, Makkachin must’ve decided to sleep somewhere else and Viktor must have scooted over for the extra warmth.

            Yuuri wouldn’t have moved, but his neck was a little stiff from the angle at which it was tilted. Viktor had somehow managed to get his arm under Yuuri’s head without waking him up. Maybe Yuuri could turn over and scoot a little lower without waking Viktor?

            Nope.

            As soon as Yuuri tuned his head, Viktor’s eyes half opened and zeroed in on his.

            “Uh, good morning, Viktor,” Yuuri murmured with a sleepy smile, blushing slightly. “Happy birthday.”

            Viktor stared blearily at Yuuri’s lips, apparently still half asleep. Instead of making any effort to respond verbally, he sluggishly nuzzled Yuuri’s hair and peppered soft kisses down his cheek, to his lips.

            Yuuri just relaxed into it. No panic rose in him, even when Viktor absently shifted on top of him, pressing his back into the mattress, deepening the kiss. It was comfortable. Natural. Viktor’s hands felt good loosely brushing through Yuuri’s hair. Yuuri languidly wrapped his arms around Viktor’s neck and pushed up into the kiss.

            As if broken from a trance, Viktor’s eyes snapped open. He pushed away from Yuuri a little, looking down at him in an almost startled way that made Yuuri chuckle quietly.

            Viktor relaxed again and adopted his usual easy smile, but said, “And here I promised I wouldn’t touch you. I’m sorry.”

            “No, I’m fine,” Yuuri assured him softly.

            Viktor tilted his head curiously. “Like…kiss you more ‘fine’ or…?”

            Yuuri tugged Viktor back down.

            This kiss was a little different—purposeful, needy, _heated_. Yuuri started feeling something squeeze all around the area of his hips. It wasn’t his heat, he was certain of that, but it was _similar_ to his heat.

            Viktor pulled up again, sucked in a sharp breath, and started nipping kisses down Yuuri’s throat, to his collarbone, to his chest. The squeezing intensified. Yuuri flexed his abs and pressed his thighs against either side of Viktor’s hips in a thoughtless effort to lessen the heat-like sensation.

            For a third time, Viktor pushed himself up. He looked to Yuuri like he was suddenly enduring something almost painful, but still managed to offer a smile, however strained.

            “Yuuri, I could kiss you all day,” he said, “but this is starting to be… _difficult_ , even for me.”

            Yuuri could feel what he meant. Viktor was hard…but so was Yuuri.

            “It’s…okay.”

            “Yuuri…”

            “Really, I want to.”

            “I can see how nervous you are.”

            Yuuri swallowed dryly. “I-I _am_ nervous, but I…I’m fine…I _want_ to…”

            He didn’t know why, but the nervousness this time wasn’t screaming at him to remove himself from the situation.

            Viktor, uncharacteristically, proceeded with caution. He lowered himself back down to Yuuri’s waiting lips, slid one hand along Yuuri’s side and down his firm thigh, moving slow, like he was trying to stay vigilant for the slightest sign of reluctance from any part of Yuuri’s body.

            He didn’t find it. In short order, they were both completely naked and running their hands over each other’s bodies like they’d never get a chance to do it again.

            Many times, Yuuri had surreptitiously raked his eyes over Viktor’s body in his family’s hot spring, but he’d never had the courage to touch him. At first, he’d been afraid of rejection. Later, he was afraid of what Viktor would do if he made any kind of opening. He wanted it, but he was afraid.

            Somehow, he wasn’t afraid anymore. Nervous, thinking of the unknown, but not afraid.

            Viktor closed his mouth over the side of Yuuri’s neck, biting down and sucking, not hard enough to break his skin, but just hard enough to send a jolt of pleasure down through Yuuri’s body. His hips bucked in response, and that in turn drew a wanting growl from Viktor.

            Slowly, infuriatingly slowly, Viktor sat back on his ankles.

            “I want to touch you,” he said, voice low and uneven. His left hand held Yuuri’s right leg under his knee, angling it slightly away. His right hand palmed Yuuri’s inner left thigh, softly kneading it right below his hipline.

            Yuuri knew what he meant and murmured, “Touch me.”

            He was already pretty wet. Trembling from the effort it took to not just attack him, Viktor easily pushed a single finger into Yuuri. That was enough to make him seize up as if he’d been electrocuted.

            It would be extremely painful—and perhaps mildly traumatizing—to stop at this point, but Viktor would do it if Yuuri needed him to. The look on his face, though, told Viktor that he wanted more.

            “Yuuri,” Viktor purred, “I need you to tell me something. It’s _very_ important right now.”

            Yuuri blinking at him hazily.

            “Have you ever put anything in here before?” Viktor asked, sliding his finger out a little and then back in.

            As expected, Yuuri squirmed and blushed furiously, but he managed to respond with a strained, “N-no…”

            It was a common way for Omegas to get through a heat alone—to fill themselves up with toys—but Yuuri had never been of mind to do so. He endured his heats when he had to and when it was done, he wanted no physical reminders of the state it put him.

            Viktor nodded neutrally. “Does this hurt?”

            Yuuri shook his head honestly. It felt a little weird, but it didn’t hurt.

            Viktor pushed a second finger in. Yuuri tensed.

            “Yuuri?”

            “Just…just a little…”

            Viktor slowly rubbed his fingers in and out of Yuuri, watching his face. He didn’t avoid eye contact. He kept his hazy, barely focused eyes on Viktor’s, trapping him. Viktor couldn’t have looked away, even if he wanted to.

            Yuuri relaxed a little more with each passing minute and Viktor didn’t even need to prompt communication out of him this time. All on his own, he quietly, huskily, commanded, “More.”

            Viktor felt tremors of thrill pulse through his whole body. He wanted _badly_ to just shove himself into Yuuri, but settled for another finger. Yuuri squirmed some more and ran the tip of his tongue along the edges of his parted lips, panting a little.

            A prick of cold entered Viktor’s chest when he saw uncertainty pollute Yuuri’s wanting eyes, but before he could gain enough control over his voice to ask if he wanted to stop, Yuuri murmured, “I…want to touch you…too…”

            A thin grin spread across Viktor’s face, then. “Well, then, let’s do this…”

            He gingerly pulled his fingers out of Yuuri and switched their positions a little. “Here, get on top of me—no, facing the other way. Yeah, like that.”

            With Yuuri straddling his waist, facing his legs, Viktor could continue his ministrations and Yuuri could touch Viktor unimpeded.

            He was hesitant at first, timid in the way he softly ran the tips of his fingers down the length of Viktor’s erection. It twitched and a kind of excited growl that Yuuri had never heard before rumbled behind him. Viktor couldn’t help but push his fingers deeper into Yuuri, eliciting a surprised moan from the back of his throat.

            Viktor moved his fingers faster than he had before. The deeper he went, the closer he got to something Yuuri could just _feel_ needed to be touched. He got so lost in the sensation that, without thinking, he started to rub both his and Viktor’s erections together, keeping time with Viktor’s fingers.

            It was only a matter of seconds before both of them were dripping precum.

            Yuuri only stopped when Viktor stopped. He pulled his fingers out of Yuuri and gripped his hips hard, using them as leverage to pull himself into a sitting position. He latched onto the supple slope of Yuuri’s neck and shoulder and stayed still for a few seconds, trying to reign himself in a little. Yuuri just waited, panting and feeling strangely shaky.

            Viktor wanted very much to just flip Yuuri over and ram into him, watch him writhe and hear him moan, but he wouldn’t do that—rough sex was something that needed to be talked about before being put into practice.

            Once he felt reasonably calmer, Viktor unlatched—vaguely noticed the light hicky he’d left—and murmured, “I want to be inside you, Yuuri. Is that alright?”

            He didn’t expect the eager nod with which Yuuri immediately responded.

            “Are you sure?”

            “I _want_ it.”

            As if to emphasize his plea, Yuuri twisted his torso to kiss Viktor over his shoulder.

            It was a strange, foreign want—one he’d never felt so intensely before, even in the midst of his worst heat.

            Without breaking the kiss, Viktor guided Yuuri around and forward, so they were back in their initial position. He stopped only long enough to lean back over to his nightstand, pull a condom out of the small drawer, and hastily roll it on.

            It was almost unheard of for male Omegas to conceive outside of heat, but it wasn’t impossible. They had to be careful.

            Viktor took a second to examine Yuuri’s expression again—a hazy, heated version of the look he usually had when he was about to try a new jump for the first time—and slowly pushed in, watching his face unblinkingly. Yuuri’s breathing hiked and his brow furrowed.

            Viktor stopped advancing about halfway in. “Does it hurt?”

            Yuuri shook his head.

            Viktor wasn’t entirely convinced, but he didn’t have the capacity to stop if Yuuri wanted to keep going. Once he was all the way in, he stayed like that. It was torture…but if he started moving right away, the torture would be on Yuuri, and not in a fun way.

            “Viktor,” Yuuri panted, “do something. Please, anything…”

            He didn’t know exactly what he needed Viktor to do, but staying still was _not_ it. That wouldn’t satisfy the flaming itch pulsating throughout his abdomen.

            “I’ll hurt you if I move now,” Viktor explained through gritted teeth.

            His words made sense to Yuuri, but Yuuri was in no state of mind to care about what made sense. The strained smile on Viktor’s face, imploring his cooperation, flipped some kind of switch in his psyche.

            “Come here,” he commanded quietly.

            Viktor leaned forward and started kissing Yuuri again, only to find himself very suddenly on his back. Yuuri had managed to quickly roll them both over without Viktor slipping out, and the look on his face told Viktor it hadn’t been a painless transition. Regardless, Yuuri started slowly, carefully moving his hips up and down, eyes shut and brow furrowed in concentration.

            “Yuuri,” Viktor cautioned.

            Yuuri gave him the most sultry, demanding look he’d ever seen and it nearly broke what was left of his restraint.

            Viktor let Yuuri move as he pleased, frustrating as it was in more than one way. He was worried Yuuri would hurt himself. Yuuri’s movements were clumsy and uncertain. It almost felt like he was teasing Viktor—a little bit of that was good, but this was too much. Still, Viktor couldn’t do anything while trapped under that stare, like Yuuri’s eyes in and of themselves were a spell. They commanded him to endure, and that’s exactly what he would do.

            It didn’t take long for Yuuri to figure out what felt good. Soon enough, he was rising and falling smoothly and evenly, hands planted firmly on Viktor’s chest. It wasn’t until he started to feel strain in his lower back that he shifted—straightened up and swung his hands back to plant them on Viktor’s thighs for support instead.

            At _that_ angle, Viktor’s erection pressed against something very sensitive. Something that sent a sharp jolt of pleasure vibrating all the way up to the top of Yuuri’s lulling head and down to the tips of his curling toes with a yelp of intoxicated shock jumping from his throat.

            The spell was broken.

            Viktor tugged Yuuri down, flipped him back over, and started thrusting into that sensitive spot. Yuuri’s breathless moans and wordless pleas were music to Viktor’s ears, egging him on, harder and faster. He pushed himself up, barely faltering in his thrusts, and kept himself up with one hand clamped tight around Yuuri’s bicep. With his other hand, he started stroking Yuuri’s twitching erection.

            It didn’t even cross his mind to hold out. He let the orgasm break as soon as it peaked, splattering semen across both his stomach and Viktor’s.

            Yuuri’s expression when he came sent Viktor over the edge, too. He came with a low growl and kissed Yuuri again, almost vicious in his urgency. Yuuri didn’t have trouble responding with just as much intensity.

            As they came down from their highs, the kiss got softer and more affectionate. It wasn’t until the condom started to feel uncomfortable that Viktor pushed himself up and pulled out, and he couldn’t help but admire how much of a mess Yuuri was.

            His lips were bruised red and swollen. The tingling in his own lips told him they were probably in a similar state. Yuuri’s hair was all over the place, some locks stuck to his forehead with sweat, others sticking up at strange angles. A couple light hickies were blossoming on his neck. Bruises were blooming all across his inner thighs.

            “Viktor,” Yuuri rasped, orgasm still in his voice, “I love you.”

            Viktor lowered himself again and murmured, “I love you too.” He pecked Yuuri’s lips. “How do you feel?”

            “A little sore,” Yuuri admitted, “but overall I feel really good.” A shy, questioning look settled in his eyes, looking directly into Viktor’s.

            Viktor nuzzled Yuuri affectionately. “I’m glad,” he murmured. “I feel really good, too.” He loved the pleased blush that rose in Yuuri’s cheeks. “I really wasn’t expecting this,” he added.

            Yuuri grinned, tired but bright. “Me neither. Surprise?”

            And with that, Viktor was more than ready to get going again. 


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

 

  

No one said a word at the rink, but Yuuri was absolutely certain they all knew what he and Viktor had been up to the day before.

            Yakov glanced up and down Yuuri once and said, “If I see you do any quads, I’ll kick you off the ice.”

            Mila and Georgi both looked like they’d just been told a secret they desperately wanted to share with all their friends.

            Most of the other skaters just wore knowing smiles.

            Yuri didn’t know what was going on, but he knew something _was_ going on, and he started interrogating Yuuri at the first opportunity.

            “Got something to say, pig?” he demanded, leaning over Yuuri instead of sitting next to him on the bench in the locker room.

            They were due at Lilia’s studio in half an hour and Yuuri was just putting his skates into his bag.

            “Um…” Yuuri hesitated.

            “Why’s everyone looking at you like that?” Yuri clarified.

            Yuuri tried hard to keep his expression neutral. “Um, well, that, uh…I don’t know?”

            “Like hell!” Yuri snapped. “Did you get hurt or something?”

            Yuuri gave him a questioning look.

            “Your legs have been trembling all day,” Yuri informed him, “you were taking breaks every thirty minutes, and you weren’t practicing anything harder than doubles. Are you sick or hurt or what? ’Cause even if Yakov let you practice like that, Lilia sure as hell won’t.”

            Yuuri couldn’t think up a good lie. Even if he could, he probably wouldn’t have been able to deliver it well enough to sell it to Yuri. That said, Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to speak the truth. For all Yuri’s crass language and hostility, he had such a pure mind, and Yuuri did not want to corrupt it.

            Yuri was quickly losing his patience with Yuuri just blankly looking up at him like he was trying to remember how to talk, but before he could decide whether or not to pry some more, Viktor came into the locker room. Quite the opposite of Yuuri, _he_ seemed livelier than he’d been since Yuri first met him.

            “Yuuri,” he called lovingly, making Yuuri blush and Yuri gag. “Are you sure you want to go to Lilia’s?”

            “I’m fine,” Yuuri replied with a shy tone that sent repulsed shivers down Yuri’s spine.

            He stood, but as Yuri said, his legs were shaky. Truthfully, all the muscles from his abs to his knees were still kind of sore, some places sorer than others.

            “What the hell is wrong with the pig?” Yuri demanded, glaring at Viktor this time.

            “What, are you worried? That’s so nice,” Viktor cooed, earning him a wordless shriek of contempt. “There’s nothing wrong with him,” he continued smoothly. “I got a little too demanding yesterday and pushed him harder than I should have.”

            “Viktor,” Yuuri hissed indignantly. “I mean, no, you didn’t, but—”

            “What?!” Yuri snapped.

            “Uh, Yurio,” Yuuri spluttered, turning his attention back to him, “it’s not—”

            “What were you doing?! If it’s some kind of endurance training, you’d better take me with you next time!”

            He really was like a hissy kitten. Yuuri couldn’t help but find it funny how this oblivious child wanted to use sex appeal as an advantage in his programs…and he did, and pulled it off, and Yuuri didn’t want to think about what he’d be like as an adult. Good thing that was still a few years off.

            “Endurance training?” Viktor laughed lightly. “No, silly, we had sex.”

            Yuuri’s and Yuri’s faces both turned white, but while Yuuri’s expression was one of disbelieving fury, Yuri looked like he’d just heard the most horrifying thing ever.

            “That is disgusting!” he spat before stomping away.

            “Hmm?” Viktor hummed questioningly, watching him go. “What’s disgusting?” He turned his questioning gaze toward Yuuri. “Do you know?”

            Yuuri took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Viktor, I love you, but I swear, you have _got_ to be one of the most indelicate people on this planet.”

***

Yuri barely looked at Yuuri for the next three days and didn’t seem to be over his disgust until after the new year, which was good, because he was being forced to go with Yuuri to his exam with Dr. Ivanov.

            “Um,” Yuuri choked after several minutes of awkward car silence, “I, uh, really appreciate you coming with me. They can’t really speak English, so—”

            “I want this over with as fast as possible, got it?” Yuri griped, and then stomped his foot against the glovebox of Viktor’s car. “I fucking hate people.”

            The only reason Viktor wasn’t with Yuuri was because he had to spend three days in Moscow to meet with his sponsors. He was going to blow the meeting off because he deemed Yuuri’s Omegacology appointment a much more important matter, but Yakov wouldn’t hear of it. He made Viktor get on the train with the assurance that he’d make Yuri go with Yuuri to act as a translator.

            “Maybe this is actually a good thing,” Yuuri suggested. “Lilia made you an appointment with one of the Omegacologists, right?”

            “Yeah,” Yuri grunted.

            “Well, they’ll also give you the exam I’m about to get,” Yuuri told him. “This way, you’ll know what to expect.”

            Yuri just grunted again.

            Yuuri expected the silence to last this time, but then Yuri asked, “Are you retiring after Worlds?”

            Yuuri glanced at him questioningly. “Where did that come from?”

            Without looking at Yuuri, he grumbled, “You’re not going to stop skating to have kids with Viktor or some shit, right?”

            That was a surprise to Yuuri. He huffed humorously and said, “Of course not. I absolutely intend to skate against Viktor next season.”

            Yuri didn’t respond, but from the corner of his eyes, Yuuri saw his shoulders relax a little. The awkward tension in the air seemed to evaporate and it was a quiet ride from there.

            The appointment itself wasn’t nearly as peaceful.

            Yuri didn’t like the look Dr. Ivanov gave him or the awkward questions he had to ask Yuuri for him.

            “When was your last heat?”

            “How regular are you?”

            “How much does your heat affect your ability to take care of daily needs?”

            “Is there a history of cervical cancer in your family?”

            “How long have you been sexually active?”

            “When are you planning on children?”

            Why any of these things were relevant were beyond Yuri. Yuuri seemed just as put off by some of the questions, which weirdly made it easier for Yuri to contain his temper, but he lost it when the inappropriately invasive Beta said, “It looks like he could have a pretty high fertility level for a male Omega. Would you tell him he and Mr. Nikiforov should start thinking about children before his age becomes a factor?”

            “I sure as hell am _not_ going to tell him that!” Yuri shouted, startling both Yuuri and Dr. Ivanov. “He’s not taking any breaks from his career any time soon, so mind your own damn business!”

            Despite being obviously taken aback, Dr. Ivanov managed to say, “The window is smaller for male Omegas. As a doctor, I have to tell him that it’s inadvisable for him to wait much longer to start a family. Mr. Nikiforov seems to be more than successful enough for both of them, so settling down now—”

            “What the hell makes you think he even wants to pop out any brats?!”

            “Well, what Omega wouldn’t—”

            “Are you kidding me?!”

            “Yurio?” Yuuri questioned hesitantly. “What did he—”

            “Nothing that matters!” Yuri snapped at Yuuri in English, and then switched back to Russian for Dr. Ivanov. “Take my advice, Doc—you keep that sexist bullshit to yourself. If ‘Mr. Nikiforov’ heard you taking about this ‘Omega’ like that, you’d be kissing _your_ career goodbye tomorrow morning!” With that, he stormed out of the exam room, grumbling, “I _really_ fucking hate people.”

            If they were still in St. Petersburg proper, he’d have stormed out of the building entirely and gone to a music store or the shopping district or something. There was no point in sticking around just to refuse to translate irrelevant nonsense. Since that wasn’t an option, though, he just plopped down in a corner chair in the waiting room and fumed silently.

            “Um, sir?”

            He looked at the young receptionist, who was regarding him with concern.

            “Everything alright?”

            Yuri snorted. “You guys ever get complaints about that Dr. Ivanov?”

            The receptionist’s concerned look was quickly replaced by exasperation. “Are you a new patient of his?”

            “No way in hell,” Yuri grumbled. “A fr—er, I’m just here because a foreigner I know is a new patient and he doesn’t speak much Russian yet.”

            “So you came to translate? That’s kind of you.”

            Yuri let him assume that he was there out of “kindness” only because he didn’t want to prolong the conversation. He just stayed quiet and glared at the maternity posters on the opposite wall.

            One poster depicted a woman breastfeeding a baby. The other depicted a severely pregnant man with his hands on his engorged stomach, looking fondly down at it. Yuri couldn’t imagine what was so great about incubating a parasite for forty weeks. Who would want to deal with the weight gain, heartburn, morning sickness, unstable emotions, and ridiculous food cravings just to experience the terrible pain that was childbirth and then spend the next several years being a slave to a miniature human who would literally die if left alone for more than a couple days?

            Yuri sure as hell wouldn’t.

            “Yurio?”

            Yuri looked up as Yuuri came into the waiting room, followed by Dr. Ivanov. The doctor muttered something to the receptionist and went back to his office without waiting for a reply. Yuri got up and joined Yuuri by the counter.

            “Apparently, I’m not to let you back in Dr. Ivanov’s exam room ever again,” the receptionist told him, chuckling slightly.

            “Good,” Yuri snapped. “Does he need to sign anything, or can we leave?” he asked, nodding toward Yuuri.

            The receptionist promptly printed out release forms and indicated the spots Yuuri needed to initial and sign.

            “You know how to write your name, right?” Yuri asked.

            “I can at least do that,” Yuuri assured him. “That was the first thing Viktor taught me.”

            His handwriting was clumsy, but Yuri was able to read it, so it was good enough.

            As he handed the documents back to the receptionist, he asked, “Yurio, could you ask him if he knows the closest place to home where I can get my prescription filled?”

            Yuri looked at him disbelievingly. “You have to go somewhere else for that?”

            “Yeah,” Yuuri said, “since this place doesn’t have its own pharmacy.”

            Being an Omega was so damn troublesome—needing special doctors, special drugs, special places to get those special drugs, it was ridiculous.

            The receptionist was able to find a distributer close to Yuuri’s and Viktor’s apartment easily enough, letting Yuuri and Yuri finally be on their way.

            “I’m never doing this again,” Yuri told Yuuri as soon as they were in the car. “I don’t care what Yakov says. If I see that asshole again, I’ll punch him.”

            “See why Viktor and I told you to set up an appointment with a different Omegacologist as soon as possible?” Yuuri replied. “What did he say, anyway?”

            “Just some bullshit about how you should start having kids before you get any older,” Yuri grumbled, “because apparently _all_ Omegas are out to ruin their bodies to make this over-populated shithole of a planet even more over-populated.”

            “Mm,” Yuuri hummed with a nod.

            Yuri glared at him. “That’s it?”

            “Well, I figured it was something like that,” Yuuri told him. “I heard the word ‘children’ and something about my age. Given what he said to Viktor at our last appointment, it’s not a hard conclusion to come to.”

            “What’d he say then?”

            “That Viktor should just bond me to avoid wasting suppressants.”

            “Ugh,” Yuri grunted in disgust.

            “Yeah,” Yuuri agreed. “Omegas have sued doctors for harassment for things like that in America.”

            “That asshole should be so lucky,” Yuri muttered as he took his phone out of his pocket to see why it just dinged.

            It was a text from Viktor.

VN:

Yuriooooo~! Is the exam over with yet? You  
haven’t killed the doctor, right~?

YP:

Not this time, but I hate him.

VN:

Not surprised. Tell Yuuri to call me as soon  
as he’s done driving ♥

            “Ugh,” Yuri grunted again.

            “Who is it?” Yuuri asked.

            “Viktor wants you to call him when you’re done driving,” Yuri told him.

            “I will,” Yuuri said. “Want to get something to eat before I take you home? My treat.”

            Yuri considered that for a moment—he wanted to just go home and pet Potya, but he _was_ hungry and Yuuri wasn’t terrible company without Viktor around to make everything gross.

            “Yeah, sure,” Yuri agreed.

            “Any place you particularly want to go?” Yuuri asked.

            Yuri shrugged.

            “How about the place Viktor and I ran into you at last week,” Yuuri prompted. “The place with the blinis.”

            He still didn’t want to show his face there, embarrassed by the scene Yuri had made, but he didn’t actually remember how to get to any of the other restaurants Viktor had taken him to.

            “Sure,” Yuri agreed, and looked at his phone when it dinged again.

VN:

Tell him!

YP:

I DID STOP FUCKING TEXTING ME!

            Yuuri glanced at the screen, barely able to see it at his angle. “Was that Viktor again?”

            “He’s just being annoying,” Yuri grumbled. “Did he go to Moscow just to screw around or what?”

            Yuuri chuckled lightly. “You’re from Moscow, aren’t you? I think Viktor said your grandfather still lives there.”

            “Yeah,” Yuri confirmed.

            “Does he ever visit you here? I’d love to learn how to make those katsudon-piroshky things you gave me after the Rostelecom Cup.”

            “Grandpa has a bad back, so he can’t travel a lot. It’s hard for him just to drive more than twenty minutes at a time.”

            “Oh, that’s too bad. Do you not see him much, then?”

            Yuri shrugged. “Yakov and I visit him about once a month, so it’s fine.”

            That surprised Yuuri a little, but then it occurred to him, “Are Coach Yakov and your Grandpa old friends?”

            “Huh? No,” Yuri said, like that was a stupid notion. “I mean, I guess they get along since they’re about the same age, but they only met after Yakov started coaching me. And I guess Grandpa likes Yakov pretty well. He wouldn’t have let me move to St. Petersburg if he didn’t.”

            Yuuri had never heard anyone specifically discuss the topic, so he was kind of curious.

            “How did you meet Coach Yakov, then?” he asked. “You were pretty young when he started coaching you, right?”

            “My first coach recommended me to his summer camp,” Yuri said contemptuously. “He said it would be good for me, and sure, it was, but he really just wanted to get rid of me. The guy was such a fucking pussy.”

            Yuuri laugh with a wry sort of humor. He could just imagine what that first coach had to go through.

            Anyone who saw Yuri skate knew he wasn’t satisfied unless he pushed himself as close to the breaking point as those around him would allow. Anything less than extreme wouldn’t cut it. It was lucky Yakov was Yakov—any coach with less than an iron will would never be able to handle the incorrigible monster that was Yuri Plisetsky.

            Yuuri chose not to keep the conversation going, which suited Yuri just fine because conversations were annoying and also Otabek had just uploaded a picture of a cheetah-print motorcycle, recently acquired by one of his cousins, to his Instagram. Obviously, Yuri needed to comment on it right away and read through everyone else’s comments and find a way to insult JJ, who almost always commented on Otabek’s pictures.


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

 

 

Viktor had insisted that Yuuri not pick him up at the train station, which Yuuri agreed to without a fight. The fact was, after three days apart, they were both experiencing withdrawal symptoms that no length of video calls could sooth. Yuuri could barely even find the energy to skate by the second day and kept messing up his quads. The third day had Yuuri sleeping in one of Viktor’s shirts, which needed to be washed, but that would’ve diminished the Viktor smell.

            The next morning, Viktor texted Yuuri to let him know when his train arrived. Yuuri promptly took Makkachin to his dog-sitter, went back home, and waited.

            Not even a half hour passed before Viktor came through the front door.

            Yuuri slammed into him before he even got the door closed, wrapping him in a tight hug that he eagerly reciprocated. He took a moment to nuzzle his face into Yuuri’s neck and breathe deep, inhaling and savoring the scent that just was _Yuuri_ , and then kissed him hard.

            Never before in either of their lives had three days ever taken so long to pass.

            “You’re coming with me next time,” Viktor decided.

            “Yeah,” Yuuri agreed immediately, and then kissed him some more.

            They kept kissing all the way to the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way. Neither of them could have said for certain that they wouldn’t have done so in the middle of the station, if Yuuri had gone to pick him up.

            Viktor let himself fall back as soon as his legs hit the bed and Yuuri crawled right on top of him. Something they’d learned since their first time was that if Yuuri was on top for most of it, he came out with minimal bruising and could still skate just fine the next day.

            Usually, Viktor would still insist on several minutes of foreplay to loosen Yuuri up, but they were both already painfully erect and Yuuri was wet enough without being touched. Letting Viktor put a condom on first, though definitely necessary, took too long by itself. As soon as the thing was in place, Yuuri positioned himself over Viktor and sank down, gasping at the pleasurable stretch.

            It was vaguely terrifying that every time he experienced a new part of Viktor, Yuuri seemed to get even more dependent on him.

            He experienced Viktor’s presence, and now couldn’t function properly without it.

            He experienced Viktor’s love at a spiritual level, and now was reliant on it.

            He experienced Viktor’s love at a physical level, and now was addicted to it.

            And Viktor was just as desperate to satisfy his Yuuri cravings. He kept Yuuri flush on top of himself, holding him by a fist full of hair, kissing him like no tomorrow. His other hand held Yuuri’s hip in an iron grip, keeping him at the best angle so he could thrust up into Yuuri’s sensitive spots.

            They both came faster than either would have cared to admit and laid in momentary contentment, tangled up in each other, panting and snuggling and caressing each other’s arms and hair and cheeks. Yuuri got off Viktor after a while to let him throw the used condom away. He returned right away and resumed snuggling.

            “I missed you,” he murmured between feathery kisses to Yuuri’s ears and temples.

            Yuuri slid his palms over Viktor’s cheeks, lightly threading his fingers in his hair, and gave him a long, deep kiss before softly saying, “I’m definitely going with you next time. Makkachin and I were both miserable while you were gone.”

            “I was miserable without you, too.”

            “Dogs are allowed on trains here, right?”

            “Probably.”

            “Good.”

            “What time did you tell them we’d come for Makkachin?”

            “Around noon. I set an alarm.”

            That gave them three more hours.

            “Good.”

            Viktor went in for another slow, affectionate kiss, easing Yuuri down to his back, pressing him securely into the mattress.

***

Yuuri and Viktor spent the light hours of the afternoon walking Makkachin around the park, talking about the days they spent apart. All of Viktor’s old sponsors wanted to do business with him again, and then some. No surprises there.

            On their way home, they let Makkachin pick out a new toy at the pet store and got some takeout. They had dinner, they snuggled with Makkachin on the couch, and they went to bed. Perfectly normal evening.

            For some reason, though, Yuuri just sort of woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t get back to sleep. He was uncomfortable, weirdly hot and sweaty, but no amount of repositioning himself or shifting covers off his body seemed to help. Why was Viktor’s scent suddenly so overpowering?

            It took him longer than it should have to realize what was going on—his heat was happening two weeks early.

            Yuuri tried not to panic. There wasn’t even anything to panic about. His suppressants were in his underwear drawer, just on the other end of the room. All he needed to do was get up and—

            “Yuuri?”

            Yuuri froze, one leg over the edge of the bed, just about to push himself up. He needed to move—tell Viktor what was going on and get his suppressants—but it was already hard enough just to keep himself from collapsing back onto the bed.

            “V…Viktor…” Yuuri murmured, trying and kind of failing to speak passed an inconvenient lump forming in his throat. “My…”

            He felt Viktor’s arm snake around his waist and tug him back with ease.

            Viktor rubbed his lips and nose all over the back of Yuuri’s neck, unable to get enough of the sweet, sweet Yuuri scent coming from it, suddenly much more potent than usual. It didn’t occur to him to wonder why it was so strong. Rather, it just seemed right for it to be. It seemed right for Yuuri to be so warm and squirming like he was trying to alleviate an itch he couldn’t reach.

            Viktor could reach it for him.

            He started nipping kisses all over Yuuri’s neck and shoulders while he absentmindedly fumbled around his nightstand drawer for his box of condoms, reveling in the sound of Yuuri’s breathless moans. Yuuri was trying to say his name. It never sounded so beautiful.

            Once he had a condom packet, he easily, almost slowly pushed Yuuri forward and held him down by the back of his tantalizing neck. It flitted through his mind that he should have asked Yuuri if that was okay, but Yuuri always told him when he didn’t like something, so he dismissed the thought. Holding Yuuri down just felt weirdly good and kissing Yuuri’s back was a better use for his lips than speaking, anyway.

            Yuuri’s back was a pale, blank canvas spread before Viktor, inviting and pristine. He pressed a harsh kiss to Yuuri’s shoulder blade, digging his teeth in nearly hard enough to break the skin, and sucked hard. The way Yuuri gasped and mewled in pleading tones was almost too much to bare.

            “Vuh…Viktor…” Yuuri panted, inciting Viktor to rise up just enough to look at the half of his face that was visible. “Please…Vuh…please…”

            Viktor forgot to stretch Yuuri out first, instead shoving himself in as soon as he got the condom on. They’d had enough sex earlier that it didn’t really matter, and Yuuri was already so wet it seemed like they’d kept having sex all day and night.

            Yuuri shuttered and half screamed when Viktor rammed into him, letting Viktor know he came instantly. Viktor could just barely make out the expression on Yuuri’s face—that unlawfully pleasing, lusty face that begged for more.

            More was exactly what Viktor gave him.

            More hickies to decorate his back and shoulders.

            More bruises on his thighs, blooming darker on top of the last set.

            More harsh, almost violent thrusts.

            Yuuri surrendered. His head was as much of a mess as his body. Viktor could do as he pleased with either. Yuuri no longer and the capacity to care—not as long as his Alpha kept giving him what he needed, which was nothing more than his Alpha himself.

            Viktor could sense it. He could almost hear it coming straight from Yuuri’s mind.

            _More. More. Give me more of you_.

            Viktor had never wanted anything as much as he wanted to oblige Yuuri in this moment. To that end, he held out as long as he could. He wanted Yuuri to feel more, more, and more, to drive him as insane as his scent was driving Viktor.

            “Vi-ha-Vik-uhr-can’t—”

            He couldn’t talk. He could barely choke out a coherent word. Could barely see from being so overwhelmed by the perpetuated orgasm pulsing through him with each merciless thrust from Viktor, yet could see Viktor’s face with perfect clarity, despite the dark and the haze of heat—Yuuri could see the possessive, almost predatory look on Viktor’s face.

            He could see that Viktor was barely conscious.

            He could see that Viktor wasn’t really present in the moment. He was half asleep and under the influence of Yuuri’s pheromones.

            And then Viktor finally reached his limit.

            With a few more thrusts, he finally came, and it was the best orgasm he’d ever experienced. He all but collapsed on top of Yuuri and held him down, caging him with his arms, lips to his neck. He bit into Yuuri there, where his scent was strongest, without a thought. The surprised, delighted sob it wretched from Yuuri’s throat had Viktor digging in deeper, harder, until he tasted the metallic saltiness that was blood. It all just felt so very natural.

            As they waited for his knot to deflate, Viktor lapped absently at the possessive wound he’d placed on Yuuri’s neck. It just seemed like the sensible thing to do, so he kept doing it until Yuuri disrupted him by turning his head.

            “Viktor?” he rasped.

            Viktor blinked at him, trying to get his face into focus. Why did Yuuri sound so worn out and like he’d been crying?

            A slow, creeping chill came to settle in the pit of Viktor’s stomach as it all came to the forefront of his mind. He pushed himself up as far as his arms allowed, slipping out of Yuuri in the process, and fully took in the sight of what he’d done.

            At least seventy percent of Yuuri’s backside was discolored by bruises and bitemarks, but none of them stood out like the distinct red ring nearly dead center on his neck.

            For the first time in his life, Viktor was speechless with horror.


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

 

 

The hardest part was the silence. It was predictable, sure—Yuuri was always quiet when he was thinking—but it was still hard.

            Yuuri hadn’t said a word since asking Viktor to get him his suppressants. After handing them to him, Viktor went to give Makkachin his breakfast and then readied a bath. Yuuri could barely move his legs, so Viktor carried him to the bathroom and settled into the tub with him. He gently ran a lathered sponge over Yuuri’s back, thinking of the onsen and how much more comfortable it was to bathe with Yuuri there.

            What were his parents going to say? Bonding before marriage…that was the stuff of shotgun weddings.

            There were a lot of things Viktor wanted to say, now that he’d had time to collect himself. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to ask Yuuri if he was angry. If he was upset. If he felt violated. Abused. If he wished he’d never finally agreed to share Viktor’s bedroom. If he wished they’d never met.

            He knew better, though. Much as Viktor wanted to hug him and kiss him until he smiled again, he would refrain. What Yuuri needed right now wasn’t physical affection, but mental space.

            Mercifully, after what felt like an eternity, Yuuri broke the silence.

            “It’s never been early before.”

            “What?” Viktor questioned.

            “My heat,” Yuuri clarified, toneless from exhaustion. “It’s never been early before. Ever since it stabilized when I was thirteen, it’s come every ninety-two days without fail.” He curled his knees to his chest and rested his head on them. “I heard a few times that becoming sexually active could affect the cycle, but I never took it seriously. I’m sorry.”

            Viktor stared, dumbfounded, at the back of Yuuri’s neck—at the bond mark he’d placed there without Yuuri’s consent.

            “No,” he murmured, lightly trailing a knuckle down Yuuri’s abused spine, “ _I’m_ sorry. I didn’t even…I should have…I don’t know what to say…”

            Complicated feelings swirled around Yuuri, unable to settle into anything cohesive.

            He really didn’t blame Viktor. He wasn’t angry at all. As far as he was concerned, he was the one at fault. His heat was at fault. Viktor woke up to his pheromones and did what any Alpha would have…which was the very argument that used to get Alphas off the hook when they raped Omegas.

            They blamed the Omega’s heat—claimed they couldn’t be held responsible because they were under the influence of pheromones. If the Omega didn’t want it, they shouldn’t have gone out alone, should have kept track of their cycles, shouldn’t have left their suppressants at home.

            A part of Yuuri felt like he should be angry just on principal, but he wasn’t. Really, that was all he could say now.

            “I’m not angry.”

            “I’m still sorry,” Viktor said, subtle grief distinct in his smooth voice. “It shouldn’t matter if your heat came early or if I was drenched in your pheromones. I didn’t even think before I…” He leaned forward and rested his forehead on Yuuri’s shoulder. “I never meant to do this to you.”

            At that, Yuuri lifted his head a little. They hadn’t actually talked about it in any definitive capacity, but… “You never considered bonding me?”

            “No,” Viktor confirmed, and wrapped his arms around Yuuri. “I want you to spend the rest of your life with me because you _want_ to,” he glared at the wound he’d left on Yuuri’s neck, “not because you _have_ to.”

            Yuuri uncurled a little, half turned, and leaned fully into Viktor.

            “I guess this doesn’t have to change anything, then,” he murmured. “I was never going to _not_ want that.”

            If only Viktor could let himself be comforted by his words. If only.

            Wallowing in regret wasn’t in his nature, though, and there was nothing to do at this point except move forward. He and Yuuri were bonded mates, end of story, start of a new one. He held Yuuri close, nuzzled his nose in his hair as he combed his fingers through it, enjoying the lingering traces of the scent that would from this point on be his alone to enjoy. _His_ exclusively.

            “How long do those suppressants last?” he asked.

            “About an hour,” Yuuri told him. “I’ll have to take one again soon.”

            “We should eat breakfast first,” Viktor suggested. “Those things are hard on an empty stomach, aren’t they?”

            “A little,” Yuuri confirmed.

            He shifted away from Viktor again and stood—he was a little wobbly, but at least his legs could support his weight now. As he got out, Viktor watched him, raking his eyes over the evidence of his transgression.

            Yuuri took notice of them, too—the hickies and bruises—as he passed the mirror. He didn’t look upset, disturbed, scared, or even surprised. Then, shakily, he raised his hand to feel around the back of his neck and lightly traced his finger all around the scabbing ring Viktor had left there. In short order, it would be a scar that would never fade.

            Viktor felt the need to get out of the tub after him, hug him, and promise, “I’ll never hurt you like this again.”

            Yuuri smiled a little at that and returned his hug. “It doesn’t hurt. None of it hurt.”

            Viktor huffed skeptically. “It didn’t hurt when I broke your skin with my teeth?”

            “It seriously didn’t,” Yuuri insisted placidly. “Honestly…it actually felt good…” The way he started shifting his weight let Viktor know he was trying to get himself to say something embarrassing. “I…wouldn’t mind if you did it again…since it’s not like there’s a reason not to now…”

            Viktor regarded Yuuri with mild awe. “It really felt good?”

            “All of it felt good,” Yuuri said, quiet and firm. “I’m kind of sore and I’m glad we weren’t planning on going to the rink today, but I promise, nothing hurts.”

            “Not even your hips?”

            “Nope.”

            It was obvious when Yuuri was lying, and he wasn’t lying now. That relieved Viktor a little.

            They dried each other off, both feeling significantly less tense, and got dressed. Viktor told Yuuri to just relax while he took Makkachin for a short morning walk, but when he got back, Yuuri was in the kitchen and nearly done making omelets.

            “I told you I’d do it,” Viktor complained lightly, wrapping his arms around Yuuri’s waist from behind.

            “And _I_ told _you_ I’m fine,” Yuuri quipped, and then pecked Viktor’s cheek. “You should know by now that I’m pretty durable.”

            Viktor gave him an exasperated smile. “I suppose I’m not going to be able to talk you out of practice tomorrow, am I?”

            “Absolutely not,” Yuuri confirmed. “I’ll be back to normal by…”

            Viktor shifted a little to get a better look at Yuuri’s face, which wore the expression of someone who’d just remembered something unpleasant.

            “Yuuri?”

            “I can’t take my suppressants through the night…”

            Viktor’s face adopted the same expression as Yuuri’s.

            Suppressants were only that—suppressants. They didn’t eliminate heat. Omegas took them so they could go about their daily lives, even during their heat, but once they got home, they had to let it run its course.

            If Yuuri did that tonight, as soon as his pheromones hit Viktor…

            “I was able to ignore your pheromones in Hasetsu,” Viktor reminded him. “Maybe that doesn’t mean much after last night, but I was asleep and not expecting—well, that sounds like an excuse…” He sighed in exasperation with himself. “What would you like to do, Yuuri? Whatever you think is best, we’ll do it.”

            Yuuri occupied himself with dividing the omelet between two plates. They stayed in the kitchen as they ate, leaning against the counters, Yuuri thinking and Viktor watching Yuuri think.

            “It would be… _practical_ for us to sleep separately until my heat passes,” he finally said.

            Viktor was afraid of that.

            Yuuri was right, though. It was practical. Despite what he’d just said, Viktor wasn’t actually all that confident he could keep his hands off Yuuri when he started excreting pheromones again. If he couldn’t, he doubted he’d be able to mind himself enough to be gentle. His hazy memories of last night consisted mostly of the desire to put every one of Yuuri’s nerves on fire and make him feel so much he’d be reduced to a beautiful blob of pleasure that wouldn’t be able to walk on his own.

            If that happened again tonight, Yuuri would definitely not be fit for practice, and that was what he needed to do. Worlds was only a couple months away, and Four Continents was at the end of February. Yuuri didn’t technically need to participate in Four Continents to get to Worlds, but Viktor knew he wanted to.

            “But,” Yuuri continued, pulling Viktor out of his head, “I don’t think I’d be able to handle that.”

            Viktor knew he shouldn’t have been so pleased, but he couldn’t control the smile that spread across his face.

            “I guess you could tie me up tonight,” he suggested jokingly.

            Yuuri gave him a mildly surprised look that was quickly replaced by a dangerously mischievous smile, which sent subtly excited shivers throughout Viktor’s body.

            “Yeah,” Yuuri said, “let’s try that.”

            “I was kidding,” Viktor told him, no conviction in his voice.

            “Let’s try it.”

***

Never once in his life did Viktor think he’d ever have his wrists bound together and to his headboard while a heat-crazed Omega rode him for all he was worth.

            It was nighttime now. Yuuri and Viktor had spent the day as they usually would have—play with Makkachin, work on Yuuri’s Russian, do a little shopping—but once they were ready for bed and Yuuri could sense his suppressants wearing off, he strapped Viktor into a pair of black leather cuffs they’d purchased earlier.

            He lost his mind after just a few minutes of exposure to Yuuri’s unrepressed pheromones and tried with all his might to tug his wrists free of the cuffs, but to no avail. He wanted nothing more than to grab his mate, throw him down, pound into him to the point that he’d never be able to feel his legs again, and bite more marks into his neck.

            He ordered Yuuri to uncuff him, let him do as his instincts demanded, but that just seemed to make Yuuri revel in his dominant position. So much for that urban legend about Omegas having to do whatever their mated Alpha said.

            When the heat subsided for a little while, after they both came and were momentarily sated, Viktor could only say, “This actually was a good idea,” jiggling the cuffs as he spoke.

            It was a great solution. Viktor was able to help Yuuri through his heat and could do it without incapacitating him. He’d still be able to do all his jumps just fine in the morning.

            Yuuri chuckled deliriously against Viktor’s chest. He reached up to unfasten the cuffs, allowing Viktor to stretch his arms, and passed out within seconds.

            Carefully, Viktor shifted Yuuri off himself and to the side and pulled out of him. He quietly cleaned up and snuggled back into bed, spooning Yuuri protectively. He kissed the scabbed-over mark on his neck.

            He’d truly never intended to mark Yuuri. He wanted there to always be freedom and complete equality in their relationship.

            Apparently, though, Yuuri was right—the mark didn’t change anything.


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

 

 

Betas generally could only perceive an Omega’s pheromones when the Omega was actively in heat, but Alphas and other Omegas were a different story. They were always a little sensitive to pheromones and the shifts in the pheromones of those around them, so it could only be expected that Yakov, Mila, and Yuri would notice the change in Yuuri’s pheromones—that is to say, they noticed that they suddenly couldn’t smell Yuuri’s at all anymore.

            Yakov and Mila knew why immediately.

            Mila sincerely congratulated them and discretely asked if she could tell Sara. Yuuri asked her not to, as he and Viktor agreed they would keep it quiet until they determined the best time and way to make an official announcement.

            Yakov was stunned. He sat them both down in his office for a full explanation, which Viktor was happy to give, leaving out the very intimate details—and the fact that it wasn’t planned.

            “His heat came earlier than expected,” Viktor told him. “Lucky it wasn’t before I got back, huh? We were just sleeping and…”

            And he kept talking until Yakov, mistakenly assessing that they’d _planned_ to bond when Yuuri’s next heat came, got tired of it and dismissed them. Yuuri was relieved that Yakov didn’t seem to think they’d done something stupid or shameful.

            Yuri, again, knew something was up and didn’t know what. He shot suspicious looks at them all morning but didn’t ask either of them anything. Yuuri thought he just wasn’t interested—or was afraid of hearing about their sex-life, which he would if Viktor heard him ask anything even vaguely related, whether he meant to ask about it or not.

            Yuuri was quite certain by the end of the day that it was the latter. As he and Viktor waited for the car to warm up, they heard an enraged, wordless howl that was distinctly Yuri. He came running into the lobby at full speed half a second later and jump-kicked both Yuuri and Viktor to the floor before either could react.

            “You _bonded_?!” he demanded, glaring down at them like they’d personally offended him.

            “Um,” Yuuri hesitated.

            “I looked it up, you disgusting bastards!” Yuri thundered at them, holding up his phone. “‘Why would an Omega suddenly smell different’?! You fucking bonded!”

            “Yeah,” Viktor confirmed easily, standing and helping Yuuri to his feet. “Don’t tell anyone, ’kay?”

            “Yurio, calm down,” Yuuri soothed. “It’s not a bad thing.”

            Yuri was not soothed. He shrieked like a tiger, just to express his sheer rage at this absurdity, and stomped back to wherever he came running from.

            “I wonder why Yurio’s like that with you,” Viktor mused. “He’s never cared so much about the private life of another skater.”

            Yuuri shrugged. He wanted to know, too.

            “You know,” he said, recalling, “when he came with me to my exam, he asked if I was going to retire after Worlds.”

            Viktor was surprised. “Why?”

            “It seemed like he thought that since we’re, um,” Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to say “having sex”. “Well, he thought I was going to retire to have kids with you.”

            “What did you tell him?”

            “That I’m definitely going to compete with you next season.”

            They shared a loving look, a kiss, and a hug.

            Murmuring into Viktor’s shoulder, Yuuri added, “No idea why he’d care one way or the other, though.”

            “Maybe he wants to compete against _you_ ,” Viktor suggested. “I know _I’m_ looking forward to it.”

***

Yuuri couldn’t have said he wasn’t expecting it, but he _had_ dared to hope that his family wouldn’t make a big deal out of it.

            But of course, as soon as he and Viktor told his parents and sister over video call that they were now bonded mates, they lost it.

            “Come home right now!” Hiroko demanded excitedly. “We have to celebrate!”

            “And get you in the family registry,” Toshiya added genially. “How does all that work in Russia, anyway?”

            “Better question would be, what kind of wedding?” Mari interjected calmly. “Traditional or western?”

            “We can talk about all that once they’re here!” Hiroko dismissed. “We have so much to plan!”

            “Sounds like fun!” Viktor said, mirroring their enthusiasm. “It’ll have to wait until after Worlds, though. We’ll come around the third week of March. Sound good?”

            “We’ll be waiting,” Mari replied. “Bring Yurio, too. We’ll throw him a late birthday party.”

            “Uh, we’ll bring it up to him,” Yuuri agreed hesitantly.

            It’d been several days since Yuri had willingly spoken to Yuuri. On one hand, that meant that Yuuri didn’t get yelled at or casually insulted nearly as much during practice. On the other hand, it actually really bothered him that Yuri was _that_ inexplicably offended by his and Viktor’s bond. It seemed to be affecting him physically, too, to the extent of flubbing some of his quads and making him look a little ill in general.

            Yuuri couldn’t tell his family that, though.

            After assuring his family a few more times that they would definitely come to Hasetsu after Worlds—and making them promise not to tell anyone—Yuuri and Viktor hung up.

            Viktor retightened his grip on Yuuri, who was leaning back against him on the couch, and nuzzled him gently. “Let’s go to bed,” he purred.

            Yuuri chuckled at the pleasant tickle of Viktor’s lips brushing his bond mark.

            “I promised Phichit I’d call him tonight, too,” Yuuri said.

            “Phichit? Are you going to tell him, too?”

            “He’d be hurt if I didn’t. Go take a shower. I’ll be done by the time you come out.”

            Viktor whined a little but complied.

            As he went to the bathroom, Yuuri called his friend.

            “Hey!” Phichit greeted. “How’s life with Viktor? Legs still trembling?”

            Yuuri blushed. “No, thank you, I’m fine.”

            Phichit hummed curiously, examining Yuuri’s face. “Something new happened.”

            “Um, well…you can’t tell anyone, alright? Not even Celestino.”

            “…’Kay…”

            Yuuri held his phone up and behind himself, camera centered on his neck.

            Phichit made a strange squealing noise—one Yuuri used to hear him make in their dorm, when characters he shipped got together in his shows.

            “When?! _When?!_ ”

            “About a week ago,” Yuuri told him, bringing the phone back to his front. “We’re going to make a public announcement during Worlds.”

            “My lips are sealed,” Phichit assured him. “You told your family, though, right?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Set a wedding date yet?”

            Yuuri’s cheeks turned red. “Um…no…”

            Phichit snickered. “You’re not still waiting until you win a gold medal, right?”

            “Well…”

            The fact was, neither he nor Viktor had brought it up. Yuuri didn’t feel the need to worry about it at the moment. If Viktor didn’t bring it up after Worlds, he knew his family would—again—when they visited.

            Phichit snickered again at Yuuri’s silence. “Gotta say, much as I want to attend that wedding, I’m not going easy on you at Four Continents.”

            “I’d be disappointed if you did,” Yuuri replied.

            “Or Worlds.”

            “Me neither.”

            Phichit grinned fondly. “So how’d your family take it? They’re not all that traditional, right?”

            “My mom’s ready to throw a party,” Yuuri told him.

            “And what about your rink mates over there? That Coach Yakov seems kind of…high strung?”

            “Yeah,” Yuuri sighed. “I was kind of worried, but it seems like he doesn’t care about traditional marriage-bonding stuff. I feel like what he’s been worried about is me and Viktor breaking up and having to deal with, well… _Viktor_.” He frowned. “We haven’t actually _told_ anyone at the rink. Mila could tell, of course, and she was really happy for us, but Yurio…”

            “Yuri Plisetsky?” Phichit questioned. “He sure didn’t look happy about your engagement rings.”

            “I didn’t exactly expect him to, well, _celebrate_ for me and Viktor,” Yuuri replied, “but…he was really upset.”

            Phichit hummed mildly. “Think maybe he has a crush on Viktor?”

            “Viktor is twenty-eight,” Yuuri reminded him. “Yurio’s not even sixteen yet.”

            “So?” Phichit dismissed. “When I was _thirteen_ , I had a _mad_ crush on my thirty-five-year-old math teacher. It’s just kid stuff, sure, but it’s strong for the kid feeling it in the moment.”

            Yuuri huffed dryly, knowing Phichit wasn’t saying anything outlandish. Children often developed benign feelings for their mentors, particularly the pretty, genial ones, and no one could say Viktor wasn’t pretty and genial.

            “I really don’t get that impression, though,” he insisted. “He seems to think of Viktor as, I don’t know…as a sentient goal more than another person.”

            Phichit hummed again. “He’s also an Omega, right?”

            “Yeah,” Yuuri replied.

            “Then maybe he’s afraid you’ll feed the stereotype.”

            “What do you mean.”

            Phichit gave him a patient look. “Yuuri, I know you don’t really like thinking of anything from an Alpha-Beta-Omega standpoint, but the _world_ does, and whenever an Omega athlete gets bonded to an Alpha, the first thing the world assumes is that they’re retiring to be a house mom.”

            Yuuri grunted quietly in reluctant acknowledgement.

            “And you’ve got to know what an inspiration you are to Omegas who want to enter professional sports,” Phichit added, “and not just figure skating, mind you.”

            “Um…what are you talking about?” Yuuri questioned.

            Phichit laughed. “Right, what am I saying?” He gave Yuuri a look of pure affection, like he would his hamsters. “Yuuri, you’re an Omega who made it to twenty-three as a professional athlete without any scandalous rumors going around about you and any of the Alphas in our bracket. You never lose your head when people try to drag you down as an Omega, either, and made it clear after your senior debut that genders are the last thing on your mind. You defy the stereotype. You’re like a symbol for any Omega kid who gets told they have no business trying to get into professional sports—to just give up, get married, and be content to stay at home and raise kids.”

            Yuuri wasn’t sure how to respond to that and he doubted any aspiring athlete thought so highly of him, but it made him wonder… _is_ that what Yuri’s problem has been? It would explain his question about Yuuri retiring after Worlds.

            “I know you don’t pay much attention to people you don’t know,” Phichit continued, “but Plisetsky’s really pretty. He probably gets harassed by Alphas more than most. Thinking you might do what every jerk’s telling him he should do—nab an Alpha, retire, start popping out babies—might be kind of disheartening to him. Of course, I don’t know him as well as you, so maybe I’m way off base.”

            “I can’t imagine Yurio getting disheartened by anything _I_ do,” Yuuri said slowly, “but I could definitely see him getting irritated if he thinks he’ll have to put up with even more harassment because of my choices.”

            “Talk to him about it,” Phichit advised. “I get the feeling his passively pissed off attitude is nothing compared to his actively pissed off _at_ _you_ attitude.”

            Yuuri laughed at that, though he wasn’t sure why, because it wasn’t funny—being the target of Yuri Plisetsky’s ire was _way_ worse than just being caught in the crossfire.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while! Sorry about that. I had trouble writing this chapter to include the conversations that needed to happen, but without Yuri being terribly OOC. Thank you for your subscriptions, patience, and all the encouraging comments :)

* * *

 

 

Yuuri tried to casually initiate conversation with Yuri the next day—something he had never done before and probably never would again for fear of seeing that glare a second time.

            Yuri was in a terrible mood all morning, even for him. Yuuri noticed it wasn’t just him who Yuri was irritable with, either. Anyone who so much as looked at Yuri when he wasn’t trying to skate—keyword: _trying_ —got a death threat and a look that left no doubt he’d back it up.

            And then, in the early afternoon, things changed.

            As Yakov was trying to convince a mysteriously fasting Yuri to eat his lunch, he collapsed against the wall and sunk to the floor. He became a hunched, trembling figure who seemed to hardly be able to breathe.

            Yakov backed away a little, apparently not breathing at all.

            All the Betas in the room, on and off the ice, looked up and around for the source of the potent pheromones suddenly permeating every air molecule.

            Yuuri would have known the source, even if he wasn’t already watching Yuri from the corner of his eye, but he didn’t move. He was so stunned by the unexpected explosion of pheromones that he didn’t react at all until he heard Viktor shout, “Mila, stop!”

            _That_ moved him. He got to Yuri before Mila and Viktor got to Mila before she could reach them. No one else moved, even Yakov.

            “Let me go!” Mila commanded. “Viktor, I swear, if you don’t—hey, where are you taking him?! Give him back!”

            Yuuri ignored her. He picked Yuri right up and carried him away.

            “Don’t touch me,” Yuri growled at him weakly. “Put me down, Katsudon, let me…” A quiet sob escaped his gritted teeth. “What the fuck is this…?”

            “You’re in heat,” Yuuri replied quietly, trying not to sound nervous or panicky and failing completely. “It’s okay,” he added, telling himself as much as Yuri. “You’ll be okay. I’ve got something that’ll take the edge off.”

            In the locker room, Yuuri put Yuri on the bench and quickly pulled his backup suppressants out of his bag—the over the counter ones. They weren’t strong enough to completely suppress the heat, but they were better than nothing.

            It was hard for Yuri to swallow them, no matter how much water he tried to wash them down with. His throat felt blocked. His entire abdomen felt strangely empty yet full at the same time. He was going to burst, but he needed something to be inside of him—something other than water, but he didn’t know what.

            Well, _consciously_ , he knew what it was. He _wanted some_ , just like he was told all Omegas _wanted some_ when they were in heat, but he couldn’t even begin to imagine what that would actually feel like, mostly because he absolutely did not want to imagine it. Even while every fiber of his being wanted to be filled with someone else, the _idea_ of being filled with someone else was terrifying, atrocious, aggravating, and somewhat nauseating.

            As if to add insult to injury, he was so hot he felt like he was suffocating but he wanted Yuuri to stay next to him, close but not quite touching. His presence was disgustingly comforting. More than his presence, though, Yuri appreciated that Yuuri stayed quiet. He didn’t try to distract Yuri with hugs or inane chatter. He didn’t say a word, even while Yuri sobbed quietly over the sheer insanity of it all. He just sat next to him, silent and attentive, watching for any indication that Yuri needed something he couldn’t or didn’t know how to ask for.

            After a few minutes, the pills started to kick in. Yuri still felt uncomfortably warm and _wanted_ and also _didn’t want_ , but he got enough strength back in his legs to at least be able to stand.

            “How,” Yuri choked, “how long… _hic_ …is this…”

            “First heats aren’t predictable,” Yuuri told him softly, calmer now that the situation was somewhat under control. “It might last three days or two weeks or anything in between.”

            Yuri wanted to cry all over again.

            “Come on,” Yuuri coaxed, “we need to get you out of here.”

            “I don’t,” Yuri sniffled, “I don’t have- _hic­_ -have _time_ for this shit!” He nearly collapsed again, but Yuuri caught him. “I can’t- _hic­_ -take two weeks- _hic­_ -off this close- _sob­_ -to Worlds!”

            “Better now than _during_ Worlds,” Yuuri pointed out.

            “And I—I— _Europeans_!”

            “You…you might have to withdraw…”

            Yuri glared up at Yuuri scornfully. How dare he even suggest that? He tried to struggle away, but he couldn’t muster any strength and probably wouldn’t have been able to keep himself up in his state, not that he cared. He would absolutely prefer to be crumpled on the floor than be supported by _Yuuri._

            Except that he wouldn’t prefer that at all. If Yuuri left him alone now, Yuri would never forgive him.

            And at the same time, the undeniable fact that he felt safe with Yuuri Katsuki of all damn people was infuriating.

            Since he couldn’t do anything but spew venom at this point, he decided to cry, “This- _sob_ -this is all your fault, pig!”

            Yuuri couldn’t be bothered by the misplaced aggression of an Omega overwhelmed by his first heat. He quietly let Yuri sob and choke out insults and blame and led him out to the car, where Viktor was waiting.

            This wasn’t something they needed to discuss. The two of them being the ones to take charge of Yuri was just a matter of course and they both knew it as soon as the situation presented itself.

            Once they secured Yuri in the back seat, they took a moment to level with each other.

            “Is Mila okay?” Yuuri asked.

            “Yakov’s got her,” Viktor answered, nodding. “She started to calm down as soon as you got Yurio out of the rink.”

            “Are you alright?”

            “Perfectly fine. I think your pheromones have desensitized me to anyone else’s.”

            Yuuri gave him a bemused smile and they got into the car.

            “Okay,” Viktor said calmly, “Yurio, you’re going to be staying at our place for a few days.”

            Yuri sniffled. “The hell- _hic-_ are you talking about?”

            “You shouldn’t go through your first heat without someone to take care of you,” Viktor told him, “so staying alone at your apartment is a no. Lilia’s house isn’t ideal, either—she may be post-menopause, but she’s still an Alpha.”

            “So are you, you bastard,” Yuri hissed.

            “I have a mate,” Viktor dismissed, “who, I might remind you, is the only Omega in this city who knows you and is willing to put up with your grumpy face. Yakov also thinks it’d be best for you to stay with us until your heat passes. Or would you prefer to stay at the Omega Health Center?”

            Yuri didn’t retort. Viktor started driving.

            Deep down, Yuri knew he didn’t really have a choice in this matter. It wasn’t safe to leave him alone. His grandfather wasn’t there and neither of them were in any condition to travel. Yakov and Lilia were old and surely wouldn’t be so affected by his pheromones that they’d ever lose it and jump him like Mila had tried to, but why leave an Omega to be taken care of by elderly Alphas when there was another able-bodied Omega at hand?

            Everyone Yuri knew could _sympathize_ with him, but Yuuri was the only one among them who could truly _empathize_ with what he was going through. It was abominable.

            Yuri let out another indignant sob. “I hate you both.”

            “Hey, this isn’t something _we_ did,” Viktor chided lightly.

            “Like hell!” Yuri barked. “I read about it on the internet! An Omega’s heat can mess with another Omega’s cycle!”

            Oh, so that was why he blamed Yuuri in the locker room, too.

            “Is that so?” Viktor questioned with pleasant disinterest. “You’re already getting your first heat pretty late, aren’t you? It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

            “Maybe if your pig wasn’t around, it would have been later!” Yuri snapped. “Like maybe _after_ Worlds!”

            “Or maybe _during_ Worlds,” Viktor countered. “Maybe even during Europeans. Who knows?”

            Yuri sobbed and curled into a tighter ball. He felt something sort of…gush out and be absorbed into his underwear.

            “I hate this…”

***

Yuri was easily the most violent heat-crazed Omega Yuuri had ever interacted with, not that that was any surprise.

            He obediently stayed in the guestroom, even when both Yuuri and Viktor had to be out, but he tore the place apart. Books were thrown from the small bookcase. The chair was thrown around like a ragdoll, set right, and then thrown again. The bed was repeatedly flipped over. Pillows thrown and beaten to the point that stray feathers could be found everywhere. Yuuri quickly learned not to bring Yuri food in anything but plastic cutlery, because he often threw the dishes at the wall as soon as he was done eating the contents.

            It was like taking care of a spiteful chimpanzee.

            Yuri asked only once for those suppressants Yuuri gave him in the locker room. Yuuri thought to explain that while taking the over the counter suppressants made the heat less intense, they also would likely prolong it, so Yuri elected not to take them after all. He suffered at full blast and nearly ripped Viktor’s face off when he jokingly offered to buy him some toys to help him through it.

            Yuri didn’t want to think about “toys”. He didn’t want anything foreign inside his body. He didn’t want to touch himself at all. It made his hands gross and sticky and left him disproportionately exhausted. Unfortunately, that seemed to be the only way to alleviate the heat, if only for a few minutes at a time.

            Well, trying to kill Viktor whenever he showed his stupid, lackadaisically smiling face helped a little, too, in a way—in the same way that destroying his borrowed room helped. It was a non-gross, non-sticky outlet for the overwhelming _need_ coursing through him. Viktor seemed okay with it, too, and Yuuri didn’t say anything.

            Lilia came over with some of Yuri’s clothes as soon as Yakov told her about his heat. She checked on him, confirmed that Yuuri really was the best person to help him—meaning the only one with the right mixture of patience, endurance, and a generally masochistic disposition—and went home after Yakov also came to check on things. They both took to calling three times a day for updates.

            Yuuri was introduced to Yuri’s grandfather over FaceTime. He was a surprisingly kindly old man—surprising because, despite what Viktor and Yakov told him, Yuuri kept imagining a significantly older version of Yuri. He was very grateful for the fact that another Omega was around to help his grandson. He completely evaded the topic of Yuri’s parents when Yuuri brought them up but did give Yuuri the recipe he made for those katsudon-piroshkies.

            When Yuuri made them, Yuri was happy for about five seconds, and then sad because they made him miss his grandfather, and then he was angry at Yuuri for making him sad.

            The worst of it all, though, was probably the social media.

            Yuri could only concentrate on, well, _anything_ that required a brain cell during the few minutes of reprieve he had between the end of a jerking off session and the next wave of his heat. Those minutes were enough for him to check his Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook, so he knew immediately that someone had blabbed.

            Everyone in the figure skating world and their grandma knew his first heat finally hit him and they all wanted to know where he was.

            Reporters and journalists wanted to interview whichever doctor was taking care of him. They wanted to know if he was withdrawing from Europeans and Worlds, if he was reconsidering his career in favor of something more domestic, anything and everything.

            It took a lot of self-control on Yuri’s part to not post a statement himself—tell them all to mind their own fucking business, to shove their recorders down their throats if they thought puberty was going to change his priorities or goals—but he knew how badly that could affect his career. It was fortunate that Yakov could communicate with his sponsors for him.

            News networks aside, his fans wanted to know which hospital to send gifts of chocolate and flowers to. Yuri didn’t respond to those, either.

            JJ thought it would be funny to ask over Facebook if Yuri wanted him to introduce him to one of his many not-yet-married Alpha friends. That, Yuri did respond to—colorfully. Other skaters—for reasons unfathomable to Yuri—also wondered where he was and if he was being taken care of properly, but he didn’t tell anyone.

            Whoever blabbed apparently had enough sense to not mention that Yuuri Katsuki and Viktor Nikiforov had absconded with him like it was a natural thing for them to do. That would save the scumbag from prolonged torture, but Yuri was determined to kill them just for the never-ending shitstorm of texts bombarding his phone.

            Mila texted him multiple times to apologize for trying to attack him and to ask if he wanted her to bring him food or sweets or whatever.

            Yakov and Lilia texted him nearly as much as Mila to ask if he decided he needed anything else from his room, though repeatedly refused to bring Potya to him, claiming his state of being would agitate her.

            His parents texted him, but he ignored them.

            Someone—probably Mila—gave Georgi his number and he kept getting texts offering to bring over food or whatever Yuri needed. Yuri didn’t even bother to ask why he suddenly cared so much. He blocked him almost immediately.

            Yuuko texted him distraction-videos of her daughters practicing salchows, which was in all honesty pretty cute.

            Otabek texted him, too, approximately three minutes after the news about his first heat went viral.

OA:

Are you doing well?

            He blessedly did not _keep_ texting—like pretty much everyone else—even though Yuri didn’t get back to him for several hours.

YP:

No.

OA:

It must be frustrating to be away from the  
ice at a time like this.

YP:

It is like fuck I have Europeans to prepare  
for.

OA:

The news seems to think you’re withdrawing  
from Europeans.

YP:

Like hell. I’ll steal Katsudon’s suppressants  
if I have to.

OA:

You shouldn’t take prescription suppressants  
when you don’t know how you’ll react to  
them, but it’s good to know you don’t intend  
to withdraw. I already made travel plans for  
Bratislava.

YP:

What? Really?

OA:

Only from the 27th to the 29th. I’d rather  
watch you skate in person than on a screen,  
but I can’t stay for your exhibition skate,  
unfortunately.

            So Otabek assumed Yuri would be on the podium, then. Of course he did. Anyone who didn’t was an idiot and Otabek definitely was not an idiot.

            That was the point at which Yuri decided that if he wasn’t in skating shape by the end of the week, he would _definitely_ raid Yuuri’s and Viktor’s medicine cabinet.

            Fortunately, it seemed like Yuri’s willingness to meet the heat head on and rage with it made it burn out relatively quickly.

            By the fourth day, it was calming down. Yuuri came home from the rink early—Viktor would get a ride home later from Yakov—and went into Yuri’s cell with a bowl of assorted fruit bites and a turkey sandwich.

            Instead of pacing around angrily or brooding in a cocoon of blankets, like he usually was when he gave Yuuri permission to enter, Yuri was just lying on the bed, facing the door, looking frustrated and uncomfortable. He looked at Yuuri the second he walked in, but just lowered his eyes in the next second instead of hissing or growling.

            “Feeling better?” Yuuri guessed.

            “Starting to,” Yuri muttered. “This is the fucking worst.” He shot a glare at the trashcan, which was full of soiled tissues. “I hate everything.”

            “The second time won’t be as bad,” Yuuri assured him. He sat down on the bed, and Yuri sat up and accepted the food. “You’ll have proper suppressants by then, and it won’t be as scary since you’ll know what to expect.”

            Yuri snorted. He took a huge bite off the sandwich, which was comforting to Yuuri—his appetite was returning, too.

            “What was it like for you?” Yuri mumbled through his mouthful.

            “Huh?”

            “Your first heat. What was it like?”

            Yuuri blinked at him, mildly surprised Yuri would ask about him unprompted, and looked down.

            After a couple seconds, he said, “I don’t remember it much, to be honest. I was twelve, so…”

            “Twelve?!” Yuri demanded.

            “Pretty young, I know,” Yuuri replied. “I hadn’t even been through sex-ed yet. One minute I was watching TV at Ice Castle with Yuuko and Nishigori, and the next, I was on my way to a hospital.”

            No need to mention that what was on the TV was Viktor. Yuuri had been watching videos of him almost constantly for days, transfixed. There was no way to prove or disprove it, but he hypothesized his immediate attraction to Viktor was what triggered his heat so early.

            “There weren’t any Alphas around?” Yuri asked.

            “No, fortunately.”

            A part of Yuuri, up to his twelfth year, had wished Yuuko could be an Alpha so they could bond and get married like in children’s stories, and also had fantasies of pair skating with her. After his first heat, he’d thanked the universe that his two friends and childhood skating coach were all Betas.

            As if he could sense Yuuri’s thoughts, Yuri asked, “Did you ever imagine yourself, just…mating with an Alpha?”

            “Well, no,” Yuuri replied honestly. Never _just_ mating with an Alpha.

            Yuri grunted. “I guess your parents aren’t the kind who’d think that’s just what you were supposed to do.”

            “No way,” Yuuri agreed. “I had a crush on Yuuko when we were kids, but that was the closest I ever got to romance until Viktor came to Hasetsu. My parents never said anything about it.”

            “Do you imagine it now? Just…being Viktor’s Omega?” Yuri scowled at his fruit. “That’s what happened to my mom. She was an idol until she met my dad and suddenly, everything she’d worked for, everything she aspired to be…she said it didn’t matter after she met him. All she wanted was to be his ideal Omega…”

            “Yurio…do you think that now that you’ve had your first heat, that means you have to settle down with some Alpha?”

            “Fuck no!” Yuri snapped. “I’d rather die!” He deflated a little. “I’d rather die…but my mother told me once that she used to say things like that, too…”

            Yuuri considered Yuri’s hunched shoulders and the troubled set of his lips and remembered the conversation he’d had with Phichit several days ago.

            “My parents always encouraged me to do what I wanted,” he eventually said, “but even if they hadn’t, I don’t think it would’ve made a difference to me. I’ve never wanted to be touched by someone else like that. I got told a lot by my teachers and even my high school guidance counselor that I’d be happier getting married and raising a family than I would be if I went to college and pursued a career, but none of that ever felt right to me.” He chuckled bitterly at a recalled memory. “I remember the first time I went into heat in Detroit—I was at school and an Alpha tried to attack me before my suppressants set in. Being grabbed by her almost made me want to throw up.” He may actually have hurt her to keep her away if Celestino hadn’t shown up in time. “The thought of having someone else inside my body was just so… _unpleasant_.”

            At that, Yuri seemed to perk up and tense up in equal amounts. “Then why the fuck are you and Viktor…”

            “It’s different with Viktor,” Yuuri said decisively. “I _want_ to share my body with him—not as an Omega to an Alpha, just as someone in love with their partner.”

            “You think you’d feel like that if he wasn’t an Alpha?”

            “Yep. Even if I was also an Alpha or he was also an Omega or we were both Betas, I’m confident that I’d still have fallen in love with him. Besides, the _me_ that Viktor fell in love with wasn’t an Omega in the middle of a pheromone explosion; just an unconfident guy with a little figure skating potential. Viktor bonded me, but it’ll take more than that to keep me off the ice.” Yuuri smiled softly at Yuri. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, being an Omega doesn’t obligate you to have kids or get married or to ever even share your body with someone if you don’t want to.”

            The tension left Yuri’s shoulders a little.

            “Guess I’m pretty fortunate, too,” he mumbled.

            He was so quiet that Yuuri wasn’t quite sure he heard what he thought he heard, but there was a distinctly embarrassed look on Yuri’s face.

            “I mean,” he went on, still mumbling, “Grandpa’s right…if you and Viktor weren’t there…no one else might’ve been able to pin Mila and no one else would just carry suppressants around with them…” He shot Yuuri a tired, red-eyed glare. “I’m just…thanks…for all this…and sorry I’ve been such a pain…”

            A weird feeling bubbled in Yuuri’s gut. He didn’t expect to feel so touched by begrudging words of gratitude from Yuri.

            Rather than express that, though, Yuuri chose to simply smile and say, “Any time.”

            After Yuri finished his lunch, Yuuri took the dishes and left. They could both sense another wave of heat was coming to drag him back under. Being at the mercy of the current of hormones was horrible. Touching himself just because he couldn’t _not_ was horrible. Everything was horrible.

            The most horrible thing was imagining himself with a quiet Alpha who would rip off his gloves, his jacket, his shirt, all while they skated together, performing a physically impossible parody of a pair skating routine.

            Skating to Otabek’s music was the best.

            Skating _with_ Otabek would probably be incredible.

            Getting off on imagining skating with Otabek to his music filled Yuri with more self-disgust than he’d ever felt in all the years of his life put together. Otabek was his friend, and the friend-thing may have been new to Yuri, but he was pretty sure that jerking off to fantasies of a friend went against some kind of friend-code.

            Yet there he was, doing it anyway.

            It felt great and it was horrible.


	10. Chapter 10

* * *

 

 

When Yuri was completely free of his heat, he was horrified. He was horrified by how he acted, how he felt, and mostly with that conversation he’d had with Yuuri.

            Hormones were the worst.

            But once it was over, he had to agree with Yuuri and Viktor—better for it to have happened _before_ Worlds, because the timing almost guaranteed that he would be in the clear _during_ Worlds. And, bonus, he could still participate in Europeans next week.

            Everyone was surprised to see Yuri come to the rink with Yuuri and Viktor only five days after his heat’s explosive start. Mila jumped on him as soon as she saw him, apologized some more, and assured him she didn’t think of him like that and absolutely did not want to touch him in any way except platonically.

            Like Yuri needed assurance of that.

            Nothing really seemed to change, except that Yuuri was acting just a little more…familiar. He seemed a lot more relaxed whenever they talked and actually had the nerve to sit Yuri down one afternoon and make him do homework, because apparently Yakov had mentioned to Viktor that Yuri was failing his economics class.

            Disgustingly enough, Yuri found that he was okay with that, and not just because Yuuri was actually a really good tutor.

            Viktor was annoying. Yuuri was annoying. Their presence made Yuri feel secure—like everything would be okay if they were around.

            Despite himself, he had gone to a few forums to read about how other Omegas experienced their heats. It wasn’t that he cared how anyone else did whatever they did, he was just curious—and mildly relieved to find that he wasn’t the only one who got through it by imagining scenarios involving their friend. It seemed like everyone else imagined actually having sex with that friend, but that was the part he cared about the least.

            Reading further, Yuri discovered that Omegas—who lived alone—generally felt very unsafe and vulnerable during their heats. Many of the posts on many of the forums described how terrifying it was to know that an Alpha lived in the apartment above or below or across the hall. If that Alpha really wanted to, they could break down the door and do what they wanted to the Omega, because the Omega was in no state to defend themselves.

            It had happened to some Omegas. Some of them were okay with the Alpha who forcedly bonded them. Many of them were trapped in miserable relationships. A few had no hope for the future, because the Alpha that bonded them wanted nothing to do with them—called it a momentary lapse in judgement, accused the Omega of trying to entrap them, and refused to take responsibility for it.

            It made Yuri wonder how he would have felt if Yuuri hadn’t been there for him. If an older Omega hadn’t been there to assure him that everything he was going through wouldn’t change his life. If an Alpha hadn’t been there to platonically, almost paternally, protect him from other Alphas who weren’t so resistant to pheromones.

            Yuri hadn’t been scared of anything throughout his first heat.

            He knew he owed that to Yuuri and Viktor, but he’d never admit it to anyone other than his grandfather.

***

Both Yuuri and Viktor wanted very much to go to Bratislava to watch Yuri, Mila, and Georgi skate, but they couldn’t. Lilia usually took care of Makkachin for Viktor when he was away for competitions, but now that she was part of Yuri’s coaching team, she was traveling with him.

            Viktor wasn’t about to leave Makkachin in a kennel, so it was decided that for the duration of Europeans, Yuuri and Viktor were going to stay, manage Yakov’s rink, and take care of Potya.

            “You give her a cup of dry food in the morning,” Yuri told Yuuri when he came to drop her off, “with half a can of wet food on top. She’ll eat it while you’re at practice. When you get back, you give her the other half of the can.” He put a bag of Potya’s wet food on the breakfast bar, next to her container of dry food. “At six, you give her another cup of dry food. Brush her at least once a day. I’ll be able to tell if you don’t, got it?”

            “Got it,” Yuuri assured him. He didn’t bother asking Yuri why he wasn’t giving these instructions to Viktor, too—they both knew the words would go through one ear and right out the other.

            Yuuri had never spent much time around cats and was under the impression that they were skittish, didn’t like new places, and hated dogs, but Potya seemed pretty laidback. She wasn’t scared of Makkachin at all. Rather, as soon as Yuri let her out of her carrier, she curled right up on Viktor’s lap on the couch and didn’t so much as twitch when Makkachin came to sniff her.

            “I’m glad they seem okay with each other,” Yuuri commented.

            “Who wouldn’t like Makkachin?” Viktor countered with a laugh.

            Yuri rolled his eyes and went to pick Potya up from Viktor’s lap.

            “I’ll come back for you in nine days,” he told her with all the seriousness of a parent leaving their child in a relative’s custody while they went to the warfront. “I know you like Grandpa’s house, but it’s hard for him to clean your litterbox, so you’ll have to put up with this.” He faced Potya toward Yuri. “This pig is more reliable than that senile old man over there, okay? You go to him when you need something more than pets.”

            Potya meowed.

            “I’m not a senile old man,” Viktor protested, now petting Makkachin while pouting at Yuri, chin resting on his arm on the back of the couch.

            Yuri snorted at him in disgust. “Oh really? Do you remember the _last_ time you were supposed to take care of Potya for me?”

            Viktor tilted his head curiously. “When was I ever supposed to do that?”

            “Exactly!” Yuri snapped at him. “You had one job— _one job_! Go to my apartment and feed her while I spent the night in Moscow! She would’ve starved if Yakov hadn’t remembered for you!”

            “Did that happen?” Viktor questioned placidly. “Sorry.”

            Yuri made a noise at him, something between a growl and a huff, and Yuuri sighed.

            “I’ll make sure she’s comfortable while you’re gone,” he said. “If you have time, though, could you show me how to brush her?”

            “What? Oh, good idea,” Yuri agreed readily. He took Potya’s brush out of her care-pack and proceeded to teach Yuuri how to groom her.

            Satisfied that Potya would indeed be properly cared for while he was gone, Yuri went out to meet an impatient Yakov, who was idling in front of the building, and be ferried off to the airport, bag of katsudon-piroshkies in hand to eat along the way.

            “Because I know you don’t like anything they have on airplanes,” Yuuri clarified when he gave them to Yuri. “They should tide you over until you land.”

            Yuri grumbled something of a “thank you” and left.

            Once the door was closed, Viktor hummed Yuuri’s name in an affectionate, needy way. Yuuri went to join him on the couch, Potya still in his arms. He sat on Viktor’s lap and leaned into him. Makkachin immediately joined them, settling between Viktor’s legs, head on Yuuri’s thigh. Potya seemed entirely content to curl up on Viktor’s stomach and have her neck be absently scratched by Yuuri.

            “It’s going to be quiet while they’re gone,” Viktor commented, nuzzling the top of Yuuri’s head. “Wanna bet on the margin Yurio will win by?”

            Yuuri chuckled. “I still wonder how you two can be so confident.”

            “ _I_ still wonder why you’re _not_ ,” Viktor replied. “You’re the most beautiful thing the ice has ever been touched by.”

            Unsure of what else to say, Yuuri simply muttered, “Just because you think I’m beautiful, doesn’t mean anyone else does.”

            Viktor laughed loudly, earning him and indignant mew from Potya. “I bet I could ask anyone and they’d admit they couldn’t take their eyes off you, especially when you skate.”

            Yuuri blushed a little. How did Viktor just casually say things like that? Besides…

            Yuuri blushed more at the thought that flitted through his mind.

            _Our child will be the most beautiful thing to ever touch the ice._

            What part of his subconscious had that even come from? Since when did he even actively _want_ children?

            Not that he didn’t like children. Axel, Lutz, and Loop were great. Yuuri wouldn’t mind having some of his own tiny enthusiasts running around Yakov’s rink or Ice Castle…someday…several years down the road…

            At twenty-four, Yuuri couldn’t imagine himself being a parent. How did Yuuko manage becoming one at nineteen? And Nishigori at _eighteen_ for that matter…

            “Yuuri?”

            Yuuri stayed quiet.

            Viktor pressed a soft kiss to Yuuri’s hair and asked, “What’s going through your head right now? Won’t you tell me?”

            Yuuri’s jerk reflex was to busy himself with something else—go for a run, perhaps all the way to the rink—but that would disturb Makkachin and Potya, and he needed to stop his bad habit of running away from potentially awkward situations, anyway.

            “Just, um…” Yuuri turned his face a little more into Viktor’s neck. “Do you…think you’d like to have kids some day?”

            “Of course,” Viktor said, like Yuuri had just asked him if he liked dogs. “Maybe in five or six years? Or whenever it’s a good time for you to retire, but it might not be safe if we wait until we’re forty-somethings. What brought…” He tried not to look terrified at the notion that entered his mind. “Yuuri, are you pregnant?”

            “What? No,” Yuuri assured him, not sure if he thought Viktor’s question was funny or exasperating. “I mean, even if I was, I wouldn’t be far enough along to know.” And they were so careful, he’d be shocked if he _did_ conceive during his last heat. “I was just…I think five or six years is good, too.”

            Viktor hummed curiously. He brushed his thumb down over Yuuri’s bottom lips and murmured, “I hope our children will look like you.”

            Yuuri tilted his face toward Viktor’s. His neck was a little uncomfortable, but he wanted to see Viktor’s expression, which was affectionate and wistful.

            “If they looked like you,” Viktor continued, “and danced like you, I wonder how many hearts they’d stir.”

            Yuuri couldn’t help but smile and shift forward just enough to peck Viktor’s lips. “More than me, if they have your confidence and talent.”

            Viktor grinned excitedly. “Alright, then. In five or six years, let’s make the most beautiful monsters this world will ever see. Ones it won’t ever be able to take its eyes off of.”

            “Sounds good,” Yuuri agreed, and then kissed Viktor again, more firmly this time. “Also, I’ll bet on a ten-point margin. I get to eat katsudon if I win.”

            Viktor laughed again. “Yurio would be insulted by that. I’ll go with twenty, and you’re going to take me out for a drink when I win.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, it's been a while—apologies to all those who have been kind enough to comment and message me, even though it's been so long since I posted a new chapter. School, you know? I've been on a writing binge, though, so here are three new chapters for you lovely people!
> 
> (Btw, I haven't edited these yet so please excuse any excess typos.)

* * *

 

 

 

Naturally, Slovakia wasn’t as cold as Russia, but the wind was choosing to blow down from the north and that made the chill harder to ignore. Mila was so bothered by it that she grabbed and stuffed Yuri under her coat while they waited for the shuttle to the hotel.

            “I’m not your fu—”

            “Yuri!” Lilia snapped warningly.

            Yuri huffed. “Get off me, hag,” he grumbled at Mila in lower tones. “I’m not a heat-pack.”

            “No, you definitely are,” Mila disagreed, refusing to release him.

            What Yuri wouldn’t give to be stronger than Mila, or at least bigger than her. See how _she_ liked being randomly lifted over _his_ head, or randomly put in a headlock, or randomly be used as extra insulation.

            Fortunately, they didn’t have to wait long.

            “Come on, come on,” Yakov muttered, ushering his skaters and Lilia into a shuttle as soon as the door opened.

            Georgi, who was talking on the phone to the latest love of his life, sat next to some unfortunate soul who happened to be the first person with an empty seat next to them. The back row of seats was empty, so Yuri, Mila, Yakov, and Lilia took it.

            “This is exciting,” Mila commented as the shuttle started moving. “I wonder what kind of clubs are here.” She nudged Yuri, shoulder to shoulder. “Wanna go look around with me after we get our rooms?”

            Neither of them actually had to skate until the 27th. Aside from their allotted practice times on the 25th and 26th, they had those whole days to do whatever they wanted.

            “No thanks,” Yuri muttered. “Knowing you, you’ll get a dozen other losers to tag along.”

            Mila pinched Yuri’s cheek, irritated smile spread across her face. “Those ‘losers’ helped you track that Otabek guy down last month, remember?”

            Yuri grunted and swatted her hand away.

            Otabek had already told him that he’d never been to Bratislava before, either, so Yuri intended to scout out some good places for them to hang when they could. Mila’s friends might be more familiar with Bratislava than him, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with them.

            People were still harassing him about his heat in person and online. Dealing with the reporters who came to Yakov’s rink was a true trial of Yuri’s patience and self-control. The social media was calming down, but he still had to deal with people taking shots at him and asking inane questions almost every day. For all he knew, Mila’s friends would subject him to that nonsense as well.

            Mila didn’t push the subject, though, and left Yuri to pass the time on his phone until they got into the hotel. Sara and Michele were in the lobby, both on their phones and apparently arguing about something.

            “Sara!” Mila called sweetly. “Michele!”

            Sara and Michele stopped arguing, mostly because Sara left Michele as soon as she looked over her shoulder to see Mila waving at her and trotted up to her. They greeted each other with a hug and kisses to each other’s cheeks. Michele didn’t look happy about that, but he kept his mouth shut and just sauntered over to hover protectively at his sister’s heel.

            “When did you get here?” Mila asked them.

            “A couple hours ago,” Sara answered. “We can’t decide where to get lunch.”

            “Let me get my stuff to my room,” Mila said. “We can pick a place while we’re looking around.” She grabbed Yuri by the back of his collar. “Come on!”

            “Hey! Let me go!” Yuri commanded, only to be ignored.

            Despite his best efforts, though, Yuri was unable to save himself from spending the entire afternoon with Mila, Sara, Michele, and—after he showed up—Emil.

            They’d already been walking around for about an hour when Michele received a text letting him know that Emil’s flight had landed. Michele chose not to acknowledge this text, so Sara went ahead and told Emil for him to meet them at Eurovea.

            Eurovea was a multi-story shopping mall with all the stores you’d expect, and some interesting local boutiques scattered about. There were also a lot of random bronze statues all over the place with which Yuri took quite a few selfies.

            “You haven’t posted anything,” Mila noted when they finally did sit down for lunch at one of the Slovakian restaurants attached to the mall. She’d pulled her phone out for a moment to check her own feeds and was surprised to see no new pictures of Yuri.

            “Like I’d do that while I’m still here,” Yuri muttered, pulling his hood more securely over his head. “I’ll do it later when I’m in my room.”

            “Afraid your ‘angels’ will ambush you?” Sara guessed. “You should be flattered to have such devoted fans.”

            Yuri scoffed at her. “What’s so great about getting crowded by people? Especially ones I’ve never fucking met, but talk like we’re best friends or something.”

            “Don’t swear at my sister, punk,” Michele warned with comical aggression.

            “You think she’s five years old or something?” Yuri countered with equally comical aggression.

            “Don’t start,” Mila chided Yuri.

            “Start what?”

            They all looked up to find a lightly panting Emil.

            “How did you find us?!” Michele demanded disbelievingly.

            “I told him where to find us,” Sara informed Michele, deadpan. “Seriously, Micky, what do you think I ordered two drinks for?”

            “Oh, what did you get me?” Emil asked, taking the seat between Yuri and Michele.

            “Whatever the house special was,” Sara told him with a pleasant smile.

            The conversation at the table quickly divided into two. Until the server returned with their drinks, Mila and Sara talked about coordinating their dresses for the banquet and Michele colorfully warned Emil to keep his hands off Sara, apparently oblivious to just how close Emil was leaning toward him.

            Yuri, very thoroughly feeling like a fifth wheel and cursing Mila out in his head for dragging him along on this escapade, decided to tune them out and disappear into a text conversation with Otabek, telling him about the places he’d scoped out.

***

The morning of the 27th, Yuri loitered around the lobby of the Ondrej Nepela Arena, waiting for a text from Otabek to let him know he was there. The only text he’d received all morning was one from Yuuri—a picture of Potya sleeping on Viktor’s chest, Makkachin’s head next to her.

            Yuri wondered if he should let Yuuri know he really appreciated the twice-a-day updates. Or maybe he’d just bring back a really cool souvenir. Something to improve his and Viktor’s boring apartment.

            Thinking about this entertained him while he waited. It was a bit of a difficult thing to do in peace, since he had to stay out of sight of his fans, all of whom were trying to hunt him down, and the press, _most_ of whom were trying to hunt him down.

            If only Otabek had managed to get an earlier flight. They could’ve met up at the hotel and come to the arena together. Then he wouldn’t have to slink around shadows and corners.

            “Yuri?”

            Startled, Yuri jumped a little and turned, only to find Otabek staring down at him impassively.

            “Don’t sneak up on me,” Yuri snapped thoughtlessly.

            Otabek just smiled a little. “Sorry, my phone died. Were you waiting long?”

            “No,” Yuri replied. “We should get to the arena, though.”

            “For the lady’s short program?”

            “One of my rink mates is up first and she’ll never let me hear the end of it if I don’t watch her.”

            Otabek nodded once and they went to find seats.

            Yuri noted that Otabek looked a little bigger than he was in Barcelona. Just a little. Maybe it was the jacket. Maybe he’d changed his exercise routine to put on some more muscle. That would mean more weight, though, which would make jumps more difficult.

            “When are you skating?” Otabek asked.

            “First,” Yuri told him. “I—”

            “Mr. Plisetsky!”

            Yuri and Otabek stopped and looked over their shoulders.

            The reporters had finally caught up to him.

            For the first minute, neither Yuri nor Otabek did or said anything. They were surrounded by desperate faces and clamoring noises and tape recorders held toward them. Even a camera crew joined in the chaos.

            All of them were asking the same things. They wanted to know what Yuri’s plans were once the season was over, if he was going to take a break, if he felt any different, if he was making any changes to his style, and—probably just because he was there—if he and Otabek were dating. They wanted very much to know what a Kazak skater was doing at a competition he wasn’t participating in.

            “I came to watch my friend skate,” Otabek told them calmly and concisely.

            “Are you really just friends?” one of the more aggressive reporters asked.

            Yuri particularly disliked him. He couldn’t remember his name, but he was from St. Petersburg and always seemed to be the one that got sent to whatever competition Yuri took part in.

            “Get out of our way,” Yuri growled, trying very, _very_ hard to control his temper.

            He shoved through the thinnest layer of reporters, Otabek trailing close behind, and kept up his determined march until they reached the stadium.

            “You’d think they never heard of a figure skater getting a heat before,” Otabek muttered.

            “You should’ve seen Yakov’s rink last week,” Yuri grumbled.

            He didn’t want to specify, “after my heat ended.” He still didn’t really even want to acknowledge that it happened or that, for once, he was glad that Viktor was as sparkly as he is. He barely had to try at all to get the attention on himself, letting Yuri slip into the rink with Yuuri without having to put up with a single banal question until Yakov arranged a formal, very controlled interview.

            “I suppose Coach Yakov is with your rink mate right now?” Otabek guessed. That was the only reason he could think that Yuri would be in the lobby alone.

            “Yeah, but Lilia…”

            Yuri quickly caught sight of Lilia, whose eyes were also on him. She commanded him with those eyes alone to come join her and Georgi in the stands. Michele and Emil were sitting in the row in front of them along with Chris, who appeared to be pouting.

            “Looks like she wants you to join them,” Otabek commented.

            “Yeah,” Yuri grunted. He started to lead the way up the stairs and gracefully plopped down next to Lilia. Otabek quietly took the seat on his other side.

            “So that’s where you went,” Lilia noted, eyes on Otabek. “I believe I asked you not to go anywhere alone while we’re here.”

            “I’m not a baby,” Yuri grumbled.

            “What you are is a popular celebrity,” Lilia reminded him, “and an Omega fresh out of his first heat. Don’t underestimate what a deranged fan might do to you if they get the chance.”

            Yuri wanted very much to snap back at her, but the one time he’d done that had resulted in extra exercises that left his entire body so sore he could barely move, so he bit his tongue. He didn’t really have a logical counter argument, anyway. He knew she was right, even if he didn’t want to acknowledge it. People could be dangerous. He didn’t need to be reminded of that. He’d known it since he started gaining popularity in his juniors days. Yakov used to not let him out of his sight when they were traveling. The only reason Yakov and Lilia let him go out to explore Bratislava the other day was because he was with four trusted Alphas.

            Would they make a fuss if he told them he and Otabek were going out tomorrow, just the two of them?

            “What are you doing here?” Emil asked, looking over his shoulder at Otabek. “Come to watch Yuri skate?”

            Otabek nodded once.

            “A better question is,” Chris interjected, “what are Viktor and Yuuri _not_ doing here?” His pouting intensified. “This is just no fun at all.”

            “There’s no reason for them to be here,” Yuri huffed.

            “They’re holding down the fort,” Georgi explained, “and taking care of Yuri’s cat.”

            “Don’t bring Potya into this,” Yuri growled at him, leaning forward to glare at him around Lilia.

            “Doesn’t he have a dog?” Emil questioned.

            “Makkachin has known my bae since he was a kitten,” Chris said, pulling out his phone, suddenly in a much better mood. “He knows how to treat a kitty.”

            Despite himself, Yuri looked over their shoulders to see the picture, which showed Makkachin with a tiny circle of while fluff nestled on his back. Younger versions of Viktor and Chris were on either side of them—Viktor before he cut his long hair and Chris before he started growing whiskers.

            “Wow, that’s cute,” Emil said with a light chuckle. “Micky, look at th—”

            “No,” Michele refused flatly, not taking his eyes off Sara, who was happily warming up by gliding along the ice with Mila. They were even doing spins and simple lifts with each other.

            Yuri leaned back in his seat, uninterested in the friendly bickering going on in front of him.

            “Do you want to stay for the whole bracket?” Otabek asked quietly.

            Yuri shrugged. “I’d rather go somewhere to eat and chill. You?”

            Otabek just nodded. Yuri took out his phone and together they looked at nearby restaurants until Mila’s music started.


	12. Chapter 12

* * *

 

 

 

Yuri made a grave mistake. A _terribly_ grave mistake right before he was due on the ice to perform his short program.

            He took out his phone just for something to do until the ice was ready for him and got distracted by alerts from Twitter.

            The more he scrolled, the more pissed off he got until he finally threw the unfortunate phone at the wall.

            Yakov and Lilia both gave him disgruntled looks of exasperation.

            “How did that thing offend you this time?” Lilia asked sardonically.

            “I’ll show them who’s ‘still recovering’ from their heat!” Yuri thundered. “When are these douchebags going to get bored with this bullshit?!”

            “Maybe when you retire,” Yakov told him, pulling out his own phone.

            It didn’t take him long to find what Yuri was upset about.

**_He just got out of heat. Bet he’ll be too weak in the knees to skate_**

**_No one knows where he spent his heat, right? Bet it was with some Alpha. No way he’ll be able to skate like he did at GPF_**

**_Take bets! Plisetsky flops big time!_ **

            A number of Yuri’s fans had jumped to his defense, of course, and that was all well and good, but it was probably the main reason those comments were right there for Yuri to see as soon as he took his phone out.

            Lilia, looking over Yakov’s shoulder, started tapping at the phone without taking it from him. Yakov would’ve asked what she was doing, but another name kept popping up wherever she tapped, and he figured it out—most of the flamers were members of JJ’s fan club.

            A horn sounded, letting them know it was time for the skaters to come out.

            Yuri stomped out to the arena, fuming.

            “So much for staying calm and collected,” Yakov muttered.

            Yuri wasn’t about to take any of that laying down. He couldn’t respond to those comments directly for the sake of his career, but he could still prove those idiots wrong.

            “First up, we have Yuri Plisetsky skating to _On Love: Agape_ ,” the announcer murmured into the microphone.

            The crowd erupted gratifyingly and got louder as he glided to the center of the rink.

            Yuri took the few seconds he could to scan the stadium. He found Otabek sitting in the front row. When Yuri locked eyes with him, he offered a stoic smile, which Yuri returned with a determined grin.

            And the music started.

            Yuri’s face barely betrayed any emotion. His expression didn’t let anyone know how much fury and spite were driving him to turn those doubles into triples or those triples into quads. It also didn’t let anyone know that fury and spite weren’t the only things fueling his performance.

            Something warm pulsed in him while he skated, and it got warmer every time he caught a glance of Otabek watching him unblinkingly. A giddiness spread from it and somehow overtook the fury and spite and drove him even harder. He recalled something Otabek had said to him.

            _Something so cool, it’ll lay everyone out flat. That’s the Yuri I most want to see._

            He must really have meant it if he was willing to fly all the way to Slovakia specifically to see Yuri, and Yuri had every intention of exceeding his expectations.

***

Dinner that evening was particularly satisfying. Yuri had placed first in the men’s short program five full points higher than Emil. There was no feeling as good as proving wrong anyone who thought he couldn’t do something, even if they were just random people on the internet.

            Otabek sitting across from him while they waited for their dinner was just icing on the cake.

            “Should we order more appetizers?” he asked lightly, happily watching Yuri scarf down what they initially ordered—some jaternica and some fried dumplings.

            Yuri nodded vigorously and swallowed an entire dumpling. “Let’s try that fried cheese stuff, too. I feel like I could eat an entire horse.”

            “I would, too, after that performance,” Otabek said. “I’m glad I got to see it in person. I was worried I’d be stuck at the airport and miss it.”

            “Why were you so late, anyway?”

            “Language barriers and traffic between here and the airport. I wasn’t able to rent a motorcycle like I did in Barcelona, so I had to take a taxi.”

            “Oh, so that’s why the bike on your Instagram looks a little different.”

            Otabek nodded. “Same make and model, different years.”

            “Do you do that wherever you go for competitions?”

            “When I can. Some countries have stricter laws about it than others.”

            Yuri hummed contemplatively. “Maybe I should get one.”

            “Get one?”

            “A motorcycle and stuff,” Yuri clarified. “In Russia, we can’t drive cars until we’re eighteen, but we can get motorcycle licenses at sixteen.”

            Otabek hummed contemplatively. “Your birthday is in March, right?”

            “March 1st,” Yuri said with a nod.

            Otabek told Yuri a little about good motorcycles for beginners and ordered more food when the waitress came by, since Yuri’s mouth was too full to do it himself.

            By the time their actual dinner was brought to them, they’d moved on to the subject of music and were listening together to a new artist Otabek had been introduced to by one of his friends back home.

            It was easily the most pleasant dinner Yuri had enjoyed in weeks and he really didn’t appreciate it when Yakov came to ruin it with his nonsense about getting to bed at a decent hour.

            Otabek, that jerk, had the nerve to agree with him, but quickly mollified Yuri by saying they’d spend the next day out in town having fun after his morning practice. He was so excited that he barely slept at all.

            Really, going out with a _friend_ was such a new thing to him.

            Going out with Yakov and or Lilia was like going out with parents. It was the same when he went anywhere with Viktor and or Yuuri. Mila acted like a sister or babysitter and her friends were not Yuri’s.

            He hadn’t put much thought into it those few days in Barcelona after he and Otabek became friends. His mind was too occupied by Viktor’s and Yuuri’s drama—getting engaged, then potentially breaking up practically the next day, then that nonsense of Yuuri’s about retiring after the Grand Prix was over—but now he had the mental space to think about spending the day with someone whose company he completely enjoyed.

            Yuri probably got only three or four hours of sleep by the time Yakov came pounding on his door. He didn’t feel tired at all, though, as soon as he started warming up and was more than ready to hit the shopping district by the time he met Otabek in front of the elevators.

            “Do you want to go to that mall you were telling me about?” he asked as they descended.

            “That’s a good place to start,” Yuri said. “I think I need to get something for Viktor and Katsudon—well, for Katsudon. Viktor’s probably not taking care of Potya at all.”

            “What were you thinking of?”

            Yuri hummed contemplatively.

            They bounced ideas back and forth during the short taxi ride to Eurovea and forgot completely about getting a thank you gift when they wondered into a music store. They spent a lot of time listening to samples of local artists and walked out with several new CDs on Otabek’s part.

            It was getting close to dinner time by then and they were headed for the food court when something caught Yuri’s eye.

            “Let’s go in here real quick,” he said.

            Otabek followed him into a kitchenware store, though not very far. What caught Yuri’s eye was on display right by the window.

            “It’s hideous,” Yuri stated. “They’d love it.”

            “They…oh, Mr. Nikiforov and Mr. Katsuki,” Otabek surmised. “They’d love…a set of china with…” he examined the design on the displayed plate and bowl more closely. “Are those poodles?”

            “That’s what they look like,” Yuri agreed decisively. “It’s perfect. I can get them a thank you gift and replace the shit I broke when I was in—” he cut himself off before he said it. “When, uh, I was crashing at their place for a few days.”

            Otabek looked at him curiously, which Yuri saw when he glanced up at him.

            There was no practical reason to whatsoever and Otabek wasn’t asking, but Yuri decided to quietly admit, “They were taking care of me when I was, you know…and I kind of broke a couple of their plates and stuff…”

            Otabek nodded. He could imagine Yuri, frustrated by his heat, throwing things at walls the way he threw his sunglasses at the crowd during his exhibition skate in Barcelona.

            Yuri and Otabek quickly found boxed sets of the poodle-china, but they were all out of reach on a shelf near the back.

            “Of course,” Yuri grumbled. “They’re probably up there to make room for the shit people with good taste would actually buy.”

            He looked around for a clerk, but the only two on the floor were busy with other customers.

            Noticing this, Otabek offered, “Want me to lift you up so you can get it?”

            “Really?” Yuri said. “You’re strong enough for that?”

            Otabek was bigger than Yuri, sure, but not _that_ much bigger.

            “I am,” he replied, unoffended, and knelt down. “Here. Get on my shoulders.”

            Yuri hesitated for a second, but since he really didn’t feel like waiting for one of the clerks to be available, he gingerly hitched his legs over Otabek’s shoulders. Otabek pressed his hands firmly against either side of Yuri’s hips before standing, seemingly with little effort.

            Otabek almost commented that Yuri was even lighter than he looked but had the good sense to just _not_. After all, _he_ didn’t like it when people said he was shorter than they expected or anything to that affect. There was no biological rule that said Alphas had to be tall any more than there was one saying Omegas had to be small.

            Yuri grabbed a box of the hideous poodle-china and said, “Okay, got it.”

            Instead of kneeling back down, Otabek slid Yuri over one shoulder and down his front. His hands lingered on Yuri’s waist for only a moment before letting go and putting a couple inches of distance between them. Yuri tried to not feel embarrassed—what even was there to be embarrassed about?

            “Thanks,” he said, hoping he sounded as casual as he was trying to. “They’ll definitely get a kick out of this. These weird doodles look exactly like Viktor’s dog.”

            Otabek hummed with an understanding nod. “Those other skaters were talking about that yesterday, weren’t they?”

            “Yeah. Those idiots both love poodles.” Yuri tucked the box under his arm. “Let’s get this and go eat.”

            He’d had something light before practice, something more substantial after practice, and snacked on coffee shop pastries all the while they were in the music store, but he was still hungry.

            Otabek followed Yuri to the checkout line, privately wondering how someone who ate so much could stay so skinny. Maybe he was about to go through a growth spurt. He’d probably need new clothes soon.

            With that in mind, Otabek started thinking about birthday presents.


	13. Chapter 13

* * *

 

 

 

Viktor and Yuuri watched the livestream of Yuri’s free program, statues on the couch with Makkachin and Potya lounging on them. They both knew what the results would be before the official scores came out—Viktor won their bet.

            While Viktor squealed gleefully, Yuuri sighed in exasperated amusement.

            “Alright, where do you want to go?” he asked.

            “The liquor store on the corner,” Viktor said.

            Yuuri gave him a mildly surprised look. “I figured there was some nice bar you’d want to go to.”

            “There are lots,” Viktor told him, “and that was my initial plan, but I want you to drink with me and I’m not letting _that_ happen in public right now.”

            Yuuri felt a sense of foreboding in the pit of his stomach. “Um…how much do you—”

            “You like Champaign, right?”

            “I—”

            “I don’t think they’ll have saké, but we can check. Let’s go right now!”

            In a flurry, Yuuri found himself wrapped in his coat and out the door. They were only gone a few minutes and came back with an absurd amount of Champaign, wine, and vodka.

            “We’re not going to drink all of this right now, right?” Yuuri confirmed.

            “Let’s just see,” Viktor replied with a flirty air, already popping a Champaign bottle open.

            Yuuri decided to just go along with it. Viktor wouldn’t make him continue to drink if he said he had enough.

            One glass quickly became three.

            “Oh, isn’t that that Otabek guy?” Viktor asked, pointing to the TV.

            On the screen, Yuri was being handed a bouquet of tiger lilies by another boy who was unmistakably Otabek Altin.

            “What’s he doing in Bratislava?” Yuuri wondered absently, only vaguely aware that Viktor was refilling his glass yet again.

            “He went to give Yurio flowers, obviously,” Viktor said jovially. He uncorked some red wine and took a couple gulps directly from the bottle.

            Yuuri muttered something in Japanese, which Viktor was fairly certain translated to, “That’s so cute,” or something.

            The pleased look Yuri had on his face _was_ pretty cute. Whenever Yuri looked pleased, he usually also looked arrogantly proud of himself. This pleased version of Yuri, which seemed to not notice that the cameras were back on him, was devoid of pretentions and just happily held his bouquet and laughed elatedly with the boy who gave it to him.

            Viktor noticed that Yuuri’s glass was empty again and filled it with his wine.

            “Look at him,” Yuuri instructed Potya, holding her up facing the TV. “He’sh enjoying himshelf! Isn’t that amazing?!”

            Potya meowed.

            Yuuri grabbed his glass, but didn’t notice there was something different in it until he took a gulp. “Whash thish?” he asked clumsily.

            “My favorite brand of Cabernet Sauvignon.”

            “Itsh good,” Yuuri decided. He drank the rest of it. Viktor gave him more without being asked.

            When he turned his attention back to the screen, he saw Yuri, Chris, and Emil taking their places on the podium.

            “Ah, too bad,” Viktor whined, “he’s looking all smug again.”

            “He looksh like you,” Yuuri commented.

            Viktor exclaimed in wordless surprised. “When do I ever have a look like that?!”

            Yuuri chuckled drunkenly, drained his glass again, and climbed into Viktor’s lap. Viktor, in turn, chugged what was left in the wine bottle and set it on the floor.

            “You both get thish _obvioushly I won_ look on your faches,” Yuuri informed him, nuzzling into his neck. “You jush look more like…shiny and Yurio’s more like… _that’s right, I’m the besht_.”

            Viktor laughed. “It really doesn’t take much to get you drunk, does it? Now I get why you don’t drink at all before competitions.”

            Yuuri gave him the cutest scowl. “You callin’ me a killjoy?”

            Viktor laughed again. He leaned forward, effectively shifting Yuuri into a cradling position, and grabbed a bottle of vodka.

            “I think your responsible, serious self is adorable,” he said, opening the bottle, “but I like your loose, party self, too.” He poured a couple shots worth of vodka into Yuuri’s now empty glass and knocked it back like it was nothing. “It’s what you call a ‘gap moe’, isn’t it?”

            It was impossible to tell if Yuuri’s face was red because of the alcohol or because of embarrassment at Viktor’s comment.

            “Oh, I know!” Viktor said excitedly. He took another helping of vodka before standing and lifting Yuuri along with him. “Dance with me!”

            It wasn’t dancing so much as them stumbling around each other and laughing, Makkachin bouncing around them excitedly while Potya spectated from the couch.

            There was no telling who started the tumble toward their bedroom. It just sort of happened. They fell onto their bed, still laughing, kissing, and then laughing some more. The laughing, on Yuuri’s part, faded to giggles when Viktor ripped his shirt off and started fondling him. The giggles, in turn, regressed into soft, throaty moans when Viktor ran his tongue over one of Yuuri’s nipples and clamped down.

            Yuuri gently combed his fingers through Viktor’s soft hair for a few seconds, then grabbed fistfuls of it and tugged his face up for a hard, demanding kiss. He tugged at Viktor’s shirt, wordlessly demanding that it be removed.

            Viktor complied. He swayed a little as he sat back on his heels, unsteady from intoxication, removed his shirt, and then pulled Yuuri’s pants and underwear off in one decisive move.

            Yuuri looked especially delicious tonight. He always looked delicious to Viktor, but tonight he looked like he had at that banquet. He was flushed and giddy and looking at Viktor with hazy, delirious eyes, similar to how he got when he was in heat but without any pain of desperation. Drunk Yuuri was giddy and sparkly and knew he was about to get exactly what he wanted.

            “I wonder if you’ll remember this in the morning,” Viktor murmured, brushing his fingertips up Yuuri’s abs, chest, neck, to his cheek, so light their skin seemed to only whisper.

            Yuuri laughed and said something in Japanese. He pushed himself up and, still speaking Japanese, started undoing Viktor’s pants. He resituated himself and wrapped his lips around the head of Viktor’s erection.

            That was a surprise. Yuuri had never done that before, or even let on that he’d ever heard of blowjobs. Viktor had been thinking about bringing it up just to try it out, see if it was something Yuuri would get into, but apparently that wasn’t necessary. He was enthusiastic in his ministrations—he wasn’t good at it, but he was into it.

            “Yuuri…” Viktor purred, brushing his fingers over the back of Yuuri’s neck, tracing the ring of his bond mark.

            At that, Yuuri shivered and lifted his head with a whimper. Viktor wanted to push him over and return the favor, but he grabbed Viktor’s hand too quickly went back down.

            It was frustrating. He was happy Yuuri was doing this, but it was frustrating.

            When Viktor couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled Yuuri up and kissed him hard. Yuuri went with it and allowed himself to be turned around. Viktor kissed his back and shoulders and bond mark while stretching him out and quickly grabbed a condom when he felt Yuuri was loose enough.

            He didn’t warn Yuuri before fully entering him with one hard thrust, earning him a surprised yelp. He repeated the motion a couple times before leaning forward to bite into Yuuri’s neck, drawing just a bit of blood, and Yuuri nearly came just from that.

            “You know, Yuuri,” Viktor murmured in his ear, voice low and thick with desire. “This is how I imagined ending that night at the banquet.”

            “Vik… _er_ ,” Yuuri whined, “move…please…”

            “How do you want me to move?”

            “H-harder…”

            Viktor had half a mind to tease Yuuri and ask him to be more specific, but that kind of fun could be saved for another night. Yuuri’s unexpected attempt at a blowjob left Viktor very impatient himself. He leaned back up, got a firm grip on Yuuri’s hips, and started a rough rhythm of pounding.

            Yuuri struggled. He grabbed and tugged at fistfuls of the sheets and pillows, slapped his hand against the headboard, and went back and forth between pleading, “Stop!” and demanding, “More! Harder!” when Viktor did slow down a bit.

            This was vexing and amusing in equal parts to Viktor, so he stopped to flip Yuuri over onto his back and then went at him some more. This way, he could see Yuuri’s face properly—that enticing, indecent face—and know which of the contradicting commands he actually meant.

            The rougher Viktor was, the more pleased Yuuri looked.

            His lips, tinted red by the wine, looked moist and so inviting that Viktor _had_ to lean forward and nibble on them. Yuuri mewled satisfyingly. He wrapped his arms around Viktor’s waist and ribs and tilted his hips a little to make it easier for Viktor to go deeper. His mind was so hazy from the alcohol that he wasn’t sure if he was feeling more pleasure or pain at this point, but whichever it was, he wanted more of it.

***

It took Yuuri a moment, when he found himself conscious the next morning, to figure out what happened to make his body throb all over, make his throat sore, and what put that strange taste in his mouth.

            “Yuuri?”

            Yuuri turned his head a little, only to feel the prickling sensation of scabs on his neck being tugged at. Viktor came to slide onto the bed next to Yuuri and gave him a soft, sweet good morning kiss.

            He was fully dressed for the day, looked like he’d already showered, and sparkled in an irritatingly refreshed manner.

            “What time is it?” Yuuri asked, quiet and a little scratchy.

            “Almost noon,” Viktor told him. “How are you feeling?”

            “A little hungover,” Yuuri said. “Sore, I guess. How much…um…I mean…”

            “You forgot what we did after we started drinking, huh?”

            “…I’m sorry…”

            Viktor laughed and pulled his phone out of his pocket and laughed again at the look on Yuuri’s face after he pulled up the videos he took last night. He was in disbelief at first, then looked about ready to die of embarrassment after he started watching one of them.

            _“Vicher, sto—! Ah, no! More! Don’ shtap!”_

            The drunken Yuuri in the video was, at that point, tied up in the cuffs they’d acquired during his heat.

            “You’re so honest when you’re drunk,” Viktor chirped, “it’s adorable! And sexy.”

            Yuuri calmly put the phone on the bed and attempted to get up.

            “Excuse me,” he said quietly with a dead look of wry humor in his eyes, “I’m just going to drown myself now.”

            “How about if you just enjoy a nice soak and I’ll make breakfast?”

            “…Fine…”

            “Let me carry you.”

            “I can walk.”

            Viktor, ignoring that statement, pulled the covers off Yuuri and scooped him up. Yuuri didn’t have the energy to protest and he actually kind of liked being carried. Viktor placed him in the tub and got the water going for him.

            “I’ll bring you some water,” he said, and pecked Yuuri’s temple before leaving.

            Yuuri leaned back and let himself go limp. The steady rise of the water felt good around his legs and lower back. It would have been perfectly relaxing if he could get that video out of his head. This was worse than when the triplets uploaded their video of him skating Viktor’s free program.

            Rapid footsteps alerted him to Viktor’s return before he came back into the bathroom, glass of water in one hand and phone in the other, looking like he didn’t know whether to be shocked or incredulously entertained.

            He knelt by the bathtub, gave Yuuri the water, and held his phone up.

            “Look at this!” he instructed enthusiastically. “Look! Look!”

            Yuuri squinted at the screen to get it in focus. He couldn’t read the small print, but he got the picture—and it was _some_ picture alright.

            “Do…do you think Yurio’s seen this?”


End file.
